The stragglers glisten

unlike the dark daunting fright

that hovers and waits

for an arched ceiling 

to collapse under sight.

Whoever comes to,

has only the splints to listen to

in the night. 

This one wants to leave– 

long and chasing,

she’s gone. 

Feeling alone when truly free 

but alive when comely done. 

The reflection of the fake moon waned,

accompanied with the billow of the wind as the

light blinds from afar. 

Seemingly endless 

this moment lasts, 

as the plunk of the plunder 

shivers and banks. 

Unable to find the one 

that listens,

that heeds, 

This leads the light to ascend 

and tear spirit from breath.