The starlight dims
And the future, once again, becomes unreadable
Behind the unaccustomed eyes
And the smoke above the distant chimneys.

The dawn will be gray though,
I wallow in belief
As another unfamiliar face sits next to me
On a painted grass.

Even as the shallow breaths vaporise,
Next to me sits a mystery
And as it opens it's palms
I see it's lines are…just as disconcerting.

There are no words to be wasted
Beneath the nightshade of a century
Hundreds of branches of it
And a single lonely soul that stands immobile and mute.

It is a rather strange assembly
And I dare not disrupt the quiet understanding.
The wind grows and trembles.
We go to war.