Even as the feckless sun
drops behind us and our shadows
stretch to the eastern horizon,
we feel the dark pour in,
we feel the cold come down,
winter rising up to stand
towering above us
towering above us
into the clear black night,
sharpening the stars.
sharpening the stars.
The dark presses on us from above,
our own weight presses down
against the frozen ground,
we are all out in the cold,
we are all so far from home.
our own weight presses down
against the frozen ground,
we are all out in the cold,
we are all so far from home.
—with lines from "The Visible and the Invisible," an essay by Howard Tharshing.
