Perihelion Ship The Poet From The Mad Moon
Inside his solemn notions
Outside the judging eyes
His mind created potions
His mind painted skies
He walked celestial paths
In the dusk, in the dawn
But he is in the past
Because of days so forlorn
The castle, his creation
Its halls were his home
Perhaps exaggeration
Yet tales to be told
Master of his craft
Commanding quill and ink
But his mind did not last
His vision blurred too dim
He touched the truth too close
Disturbed the halls of those
Who gave him his soul
Who let his mind roam
All for his art
He wrote his mind apart
Confusing his soul
In the end he was alone