Chapped lips like old carpets.

To the depths of the mountains, to the bottom of our sea.

The seasons suggest, the feelings within, bringing me deep

Skies cry when the children don’t come home at night

There will be death and there will be birth accompanied by

A full WOLF moon. The stars will dance around Jupiter,

The fire will ignite the angry women of the night

Men will carry the skulls and the candles while the midnight

Moon follows closely behind the shadows of our deceased

Sisters. With roses in their hands and gold in their eyes,

The trees are slowly dying this evening.