How shall I sing of sorrow, with such joy as has been sown?
When city stands and world is saved, what sorrow can I own?
I would rejoice with all my heart if logic were my guide,
But logic falls to heart's despair, I'm humbled in my pride.
Elostian, Enigma true, You leave me asking still:
How do we laugh while empty stands the place You used to fill?
When stillness comes and twilight falls, from Seirode rings Your bell.
How can I help but weep to hear the tolling of Your knell?
Through shrouds and mists I sometimes walk, seeking what won't be found,
And wonder oft what will become of knowledge crystal bound.
So much yet to discover, so much more yet to learn,
And all of it without You, for Your guiding hand I yearn.
But though I mourn and though I weep, my learning shall not cease,
For how else can I honour You, but my knowledge increase?
Your sacrifice, Enigmatic Lord, shall not be in vain.
You died to save perfection, so, perfection will I gain.
You no longer guide me, but to Your teachings will I hold,
And teach others to remember, and seek with questions bold.