Night, again,
the morbid inhalation
of the night opening
it's maw as though to decimate,
In one long suck,
the layers of light
still caked to our skin like earth
atop a mass grave; but
no one dies in vain,
the deeds of flesh and mind
dissipate and reinvigorate
the moist dirt with the very thing
the night wants gone: life
and the possibility of eternity.
