In The Midnight Of Time

Freezing steel,

feel its depth,

standing upon

a shaky world

that senses less each year.

Gravediggers dig shallower,

and owls hoot more quietly,

and gazelles run slower.

The moon shines more dully,

although with still noticeable grace.

Death is used as a cover,

to excuse our lack of forgiveness,

to make things less strange,

and let flesh rest,

to mend its own seams.

To let lips rest,

from telling stories,

or casting spells.

To allow eyes, 

to focus elsewhere,

to seek ancient lands

where freezing steel is unknown.

And a steadier world prevails.