The Swan, Part Two

Through veils of mist, the swan returns Where twilight fades and silence burns Its feather darkened, its spirit torn A vessel adrift, eternally worn The waters churn with a heavy dread Reflecting skies of ashen red Its solemn flight, a prayer unsung A journey begun when the end had sprung Beneath the waves, the shadows grow Drawing the swan to the depths below Its wings collapse, its grace undone Swallowed whole by the drowning sun And in the deep, where light has fled The swan lies still among the dead A lifeless form, yet beauty remains A silent witness to the world's last strains