So the story continues
of our sun and fair rose
for one door is opened
when another is closed.
All endings illusions
beginnings all veils,
between what has passed
and what is revealed.

Oh the shadow play
of our sun and fair moon,
worn like masks
of day and night.
The muses dressed
all for their dance
in black and red,
and lily white.
Singing “Shed your cloak of dark and light.
Shed your cloak of day and night.”

When the dark wind calls
she will carry us over,
when the darkness falls
she will carry us home.

Come again, come again,
when the maiden has woken.
Come again, come again
when the darkness goes home.

In the hours of darkness,
the sun is reborn,
by the wings of the raven,
by the crescents white horns.
Born of the ashes,
of seasons since past,
of memories tilled under,
grown over with grass.

In this mystery play
of our sun and the shadow,
each must fall
like day and night.
In the hour
when the dark is fading,
from shadow black
to springtime white.
Singing “Shed your cloak of dark and light,
shed your cloak and find the sight.”

When the dark wind calls
she will carry you over,
when the darkness falls
she will carry you home.

Come again, come again,
when the maiden has woken.
Come again, come again
when the darkness goes home.

For the story is simple
of our season and sun,
the shadow moves with him
for in truth they are one.
Like the darkness in spring
who rests when May calls,
the great light bearer
in the Autumn must fall.

Oh the pageant of
the dying sun,
a simple song
forever resung.
She carries him beyond,
dualities light,
in scarlet, black,
and lily white.

When the dark wind calls
she will carry you over,
when the darkness falls
she will carry you home.

Come again, come again,
when the maiden has woken,
come again, come again,
when the darkness goes home.