Orchid. (VI) "The Opeth Diaries." In Mist She Was Standing.

Unmistakeable, is a feminine shape...
She rests to an oak, hands buried to face.
Black, lengthy hair falling down past her shoulders...
Giving beauty new meanings in its unholy smoulder.

Never such a dame, to appear in thine eyes,
And never such disengagement to watch her as she cries.
We both wear little clothing, and it strikes me as strange,
That she is only a few feet away in hazed range...

So I consider moving forward, and I consider moving back,
What should I do, in these decisions I lack?
I must do something, instead of just sitting here.
God is my witness, in this woman I fear.

Could she have something to do with my ill-starred dream?
Or could she be as well, and just another foul fiend?
Who is to know why she led me to this spot...
And who is to say reality, in the battle I've fought?

She is indeed crying still, and her tears mix with the rain...
Its been lingering hours now, and I've taken them in vain.
Maybe this is the wrong woods, and I have somehow progressed,
To the much feared forest in the East, than the West.

My spirit feels heavy, and it makes me wonder...
Has he forsaken me? Am I left to Satan's plunder?
Why is His voice absent, and who is this girl?
Is this love or attraction, that I draw in her world?

Only one way to know, as I approach her, the morbid...
Cupping a single bright flower, a quite fascinating orchid.
She ceased her lament, in the flower I was handing...
When the forest stopped crying, in the mist she was standing.