The blazing
flame of the
dark lantern
was shining
brightly
as it reflected
in the
Woodsman's
auburn eyes.
Lost souls
take no
pleasure in
being found.
Little pieces of
glowing embers
were swiftly
carried away
by the autumn
wind in the
melancholy air
of old memories.
Like a
starry breeze
of dying fire,
whispering into
the stalking
night,
singing its
mortal melody
to the
wayward pines.
And so he
slowly disappeared
in the moonlit fog,
more lost than
he could have
ever realised.
Deeper and deeper in
the unknown...