A Nightfall Shared By All

This poem is Part I in the Deadwoods series. You can read more about the series in general here.

Usher forth the inversion of the clouds,
the sky shall now sleep underground.
Without reason is this ceaseless night;
the missing beacon that is moonlight.

When the sun slept it refused to rise
and the same was said for the other side.
Some say it resides with the dead,
dormant upon its grey funeral bed.

Trees in the breeze now shiver sadly
where they once danced all too gladly.
Animation in nature has come to a close
as the petals begin to fall from the rose.

Seething superstition has come to a simmer;
a saint has been made of every sinner.
The heathen now withdraws their disbelief
in the fear of whatever shall lie beneath.

It seems that our Gods have been lulled to sleep;
silence shall resound as the angels weep.
The church halls face now the abyssal doubt
when the chill of stark forsakenness abounds.

For now we watch the candles burn
because all clocks have refused to turn.
Time is told by the perishing wick
rather than the second hand’s faint tick,
as our minds cannot help but think
‘when shall we wither and become sick?’



I need something to get me back to you
when it seems that every call drifts within an echo;
when language finds the limit
and my heartbeats will pulse a chill.
I don’t want to lose you to the darkness of distance
but lessons I’ve leaned tell me silence is wisdom
so voiceless I must project my signal.

Lanterns in the sky
or a phoenix in flight.
I beg you to look up,
please just see the light.

The ocean is the world’s greatest thief
and you were no exception as you rode upon its wings.
I guess I was just borrowing you from the sea.
What’s taken’s now returned but don’t think I don’t believe
that you could see about the mountains and trees.

A single fleeting flare,
the moon’s dappled glare
flickering bright in the sky,
is seen from everywhere/
They’re asking you that question;
whether you could still care.

I’ve been burned by my beacons before.
I left them by the line of my shore.
I waited for the crest of each wave.
hoping it would return you again.