When I watch the mighty sunset
The sky fading to gray
And wonder for the lost splendour
of this miraculous design
Of this miraclulous design?
Is there such a thing as a miracle
for the mortals such as we?
The elves, they live forever
and watch the future become written
as long lost historian books
But we live, and die, and forget the past
Forget our sorrows, fears lifestyles
As if we are going nowhere, and faster than ever.
Am I so willingly expected
to believe what the elves have taught us?
That the great Eru painted the sky
in sync with the melodies of the Ainur
Whom he so undoubtedly created?
How am I to enjoy such a life
that ends so quickly, and begins so suddenly
And at every twist and turn a new story begins
But if there is anything to reassure me
of the unconditional love,
beyond the shadow of a doubt,
it is this sunset tonight.
The Painted Sky