Analysis of Twilight

twilight has an empty soul,
on the bank where rivers pass,
no night nor day, nor pieces whole,
but reflections on its glass.

Echo's call from distant shores,
the sky a purple grey,
a battlefield of endless wars
where dead and wounded lay.

The western sun is dying red,
the eastern moon now rise,
two opposites of world have met
and formed the twilight skies.