Nighttime Wake
She wove her shroud
Of spider-silk
At daybreak and at dusk.
Hours between,
She slept sweetly
Reduced to wanderlust.
Nighttime, she woke
Shook off her pain
Bathed in the moonlight rain.
Ancient, she spoke.
“I have seen the past,
Future recast,
Fade with sweet midnight’s last.
Many asked
What saw mine eyes
As sunrise closed them fast.
But I will go
Into the vast
Unknown and unsurpassed.”
The dying of
The morning star
Marked her return to death.
Tell me, boy, what kind of thing
At dawn drew her last breath?
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