Orchid. (VI) "The Opeth Diaries."

Motionless to the rain, stands that distinct silhouette…
It does nothing else, but drenches down wet.
I pull apart the leaves, peeking through at the figure…
Then it takes off, rearing back behind the river.

Strange as it is, I gain urge to follow…
Bounding close behind, still blind in the morrow.
The shadow moves inhumane but never disappears from sight…
Like it wants me to pursue, as if it knows my hidden strife...

On and on, it seems to blur within the grey.
An envisage lights its walk, seeming to know the way…
But why does it run? Does it sense my recent swoon?
Only the Wind ripostes, under the weeping moon.

Rain never lets up, pouring down with a fist.
It grows even harder to follow in heavy mist,
Once I again I have forgotten my destined purpose,
It matters not now, as those requests are worthless.

The reverie haunts my steps, crunching down in their trail.
For a moment to cease, I feel the new gale…
Revealed in the moonlight, stands a outline in linen…
It isn’t a shadow, but a beautiful woman.