Darkening, the western sky grows weary of light,
And with the shift of a great shadow comes the night.
A chilling wind whispers across the great plain,
As rolling clouds thunder and begin to rain.
Falling cold rain – like tears of the blest –
For the heart of man within his breast.
Piteous tears falling far from on high,
From the kingdom of light within the sky,
That quivers in a torrential choke of sorrow,