The water was on
and the power was out,
a tree lost its life.
Is this what must come about
to force one to write?
I heard the tree caught fire,
illuminating gazes
as darkness fell,
a natural spell-
a ritual-
a well to fall into
that no one wants to leave...
In candlelight it's easier to see,
to breathe.

The stars, the moon.
Look at the moon,
it will guide you.
She speaks,
she weeps,
she comforts like a pale breast.
"Rest."