The Blue Dead

The Blue Dead

From the land of the never-forgotten
from the skys that are blue
the nights are so endless
and the days, they are too.

I follow the voices
that turn into song
the breath of the breathless
turning, dancing throng.

In the quiet of midnight
the echoes ring clear
spirits, their laughter
as the time draws near.

Swirling and flying
through the other realm
veil of incandescence
robes the helm.

Voices of the blue dead
and music of night
before the last specter
disappears into light.

Belita Adair




Photographer: duendegotico
Lyrics: Belita Adair
Place: Cemetery Alto São João, Lisboa, Portugal


The blue tone from this photo is original.



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