First the summer,
And then the spring
The flutter of these
tiny things:
Wisps that whisper
grim designs,
Minds that watch
the final light.
As the moon ascends on high,
As the sun slips from the night,
We still pause and ask us why
We endure this dreary plight.
Third the winter,
Then the fall-
So speaks the wisest
of them all:
"Each dark one comes,
Each dark one goes,
But never within
my tiny home.
Never alone on dreary road,
Nor billowed winter,
Nor softest snow.
Through the quaint streets
that I roam,
Of dainty house
and dim-lit home.
But even so, as we roam,
I ask this always,
Please- do not forego:
Along this dark road
that I here roam,
Together, we are not alone-
So never shall I be alone."
Oct 29, 2025
Oct 29, 2025 at 7:36 PM UTC
First the summer,
And then the spring
The flutter of these
tiny things:
Wisps that whisper
grim designs,
Minds that watch
the final light.
As the moon ascends on high,
As the sun slips from the night,
We still pause and ask us why
We endure this dreary plight.
Third the winter,
Then the fall-
So speaks the wisest
of them all:
"Each dark one comes,
Each dark one goes,
But never within
my tiny home.
Never alone on dreary road,
Nor billowed winter,
Nor softest snow.
Through the quaint streets
that I roam,
Of dainty house
and dim-lit home.
But even so, as we roam,
I ask this always,
Please- do not forego:
Along this dark road
that I here roam,
Together, we are not alone-
So never shall I be alone."