the yearly rolling of the scroll has fallen upon us
the earthy scent of incense hovers
the warm glow of lantern light washes our faces;
whispers of wind rinse the graves of their leaves
and we wait in anticipation
to be born anew in that big, black, empty sea.
we have kept ourselves free, even in the darkest of nights
for you were always my little light;
and so my wayward star,
you who have carried me so far -
will you come with me now
into the great beyond,
where dreams and nightmares lie in wait,
ready to pounce should you choose their place?