the wolves and wild things sing and dance beneath the night sky the autumn moon ripe for the taking
to glow without witness to die without applause a star learns shame when it falls into the sea
in odd tantrums the autumn rain falls at last
moss for hair a cradle of roots for a heart the beast peers wildly through deer skulls scrutinizing its kingdom of green
unmoving eerily still at the bottom of the sea the fish will gather and offer their prayers to a new god who joins them drowned but born again
in the mud in the rain lies a strange cracked mask rehearsing its lines going through the emotions of the faces it has worn the lives it has lived and still never truly understood who it was or what brought about its creation a mask worn for too long is still a mask a bare minimum to face this savage world
we forget where the ocean and sky ends where maps and constellations drown where autumn is the one truth in the lies we have orchestrated
the dark gods we thought extinct sleep beneath the city grey their lucid dreams driving hollow shells of flesh into madness and shaping the ways of cruelty
too many names buried in the forest now those same names have found a home in the concrete that invades their sacred space
autumn dawn a tide of forgetting washes over us a quiet reset that we hollow things never really talk about
elancharan gunasekaran 