A wizard in Black, a witch in Blue,
The magic of love blended with their doom.
To let this world be, the colours had to die,
For dreams have no space for blinding lights.
For their wands could hold the ocean,
And their words could cease the stars,
They held this dream to last,
To let the sleep mend their swollen hearts.
Their power so immense, their misery so pure,
When they would kiss, the moon would adore.
The ocean would pour out into the air,
And ask the mended fire to play fair.
The fire once born, was not a charm,
Created by the magician, held by the harm.
The blue would burn, The black would bleed,
The ocean would dry, to quench their need.
How cold, the flame to hold them close,
How bight, they burn, with the love in their bones,
The moon would rest, the wind would test
The fire shall still burn the holy flesh.
Alas, with only the fire and the night,
Dawn shall break the burning ice.
They wake up, entangled in their heads,
Two poets, one dream, to detest.
Two poets, one dream, the mesh.