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Of light,
Of lingering light,
Long lost to all,
Whip words by wind and wail.

Tread teardrop trails,
Through tangled tree limbs,
Bear forward with arms alike,
Know nothing of boundaries.

Ne'er stopping nor speaking,
Nor seeing signs,
Of darkened path pervail,
Still onward and relentless.

Look not back,
Not forward mind,
Your eyes have all but sight,
To see lies what lay ahead for those without a light.

Narrow gnarled northern path,
Upon which tread you all,
Onward forward never back,
Follow only the whipping wind's call.