Now summer nights have been fulfilled,
the winter wind brings icy chill,
and in the dark of what was day,
brings with it something far from thrill.
The finest woven plans are frayed,
but held so firm just yesterday.
I lean upon the window sill
and search for light as evening fades.
The sky has lost its night decór
that shone so brilliant days before,
and silence drones with awful din;
a soundless breath, a midnight’s roar.
But I’ll hold tight to turtle-fin
and dive beneath this world we’re in,
for hope has sunk to ocean floor;
it’s weighted down with hate and sin.