A spark of light floats

            past my window

                       doubtfully,

            when the world is

            asleep

A webbed ring reaches

           my drowsy head,

                     my foggy thoughts,

        combing through my dreams

The smell 

            of freshly cut birchwood, 

A flame of glowing embers

Accompany 

            the lonely souls

Who are you?

Do you come alone?

Are you lost?

Do you hear me 

            or 

            not?

Sometimes you linger 

            by the fireplace,

            sometimes on the roof,

I want to ask you,

           Do you love the night 

                        or favor the pink-cheeked sky 

                        peeking from beneath the horizon?

Sometimes you cannot sing

                you cry

I want to ask you,

             Do dreams taste bitter

                      and are they heavy 

                 to carry along?

            Is it wise or silly

                     to know the ebony depths of the roots

                             of our souls,

                                     smoldering?

And wait,

            Here come more --

            Have you touched the stars?

            Are they

                        hot

                        like fire

               or cold

                        like ice

               or neither

            like the oblivion

            only sleep can bring?

Have you chased the moon?

                Wingtips drift up to sky,

           the waxy crescent 

           comforting 

          the frozen world

The lantern flickers,

            once

                       twice

                                   disappears

There I am

            left in the nothingness

My dreams

            are of ashes