Seven

Long forgotten Tales,
told again after centuries,
mysteries of life and death,
stars and gods,
resurrecting the old culture

One hand,
the count of five,
embalmed,
no impulse,
not dead,
though not alive

The other hand,
the count of seven,
magic number of your life,
a jewel,
caught the plough,
for centuries and decades,
just for one moment

The great experiment,
from the world of souls,
you can return,
when the seven stars,
in the seventh hour,
have the right constellation

Your dreams come true,
black magic lesson's were worth it,
just for one moment

A wedding dress,
black smoke,
panic and fear,
seven stars shining bright,
the jewel glows,
kept by 7 fingers,
resurrected to disappear

Embalment becomes dust,
noone knows,
what happened,
unconcious states,
a dusty wedding dress remains,
to keep your memory alive