In the high towers
candles still burn
while the ground has been cleared
of skeleton thorns on ghostly brambles
winding around ageless ankles
and the coils of time in dried-out wells
and in the high windows
eyeless ghosts still sigh:
oh winters, oh wonders,
oh world going silent
around walls disappearing
in the whispering mist rising like spells,
like prayers muttered unter breath
for the candles to keep burning
until the darkness thaws away
starfishskies 