We are but creatures of dusk, children of nightfall born to the maiden of twilight; brought into existence by the needles of the night sky weaving the frail thread of velvet of the void above. As the thin veil of darker greys perforated by the occasional pale silver dagger of the hesitant moon coalesced and the candles yawned into the darkness, we came into this realm. We tremble in awe in front of that which is formless and respect with every fibre that which is shapeless; yet it is us whose form cannot be seen and us whose shape cannot be discerned; so who do we fear? The empty spaces between the stars are us and the stars are also us; yet neither being us when we come into existence. We rest in the birch’s lap and sway in the manor of wind and drink from the chalice of the night the opiate of dreams. We are nothing more than shadows of the dying sun, mere remnants of the distant past; we are the children of infinity, the dust of the stars. In the calm whispers of the winds afar, in the primeval dark of the cold sea, we are those who sever the ties. We are the unsaid thoughts, the silence in the storms; we are the tears of time. The cold caress of the earth, the silent stones, the earthly tremors, the unhallowed sleep, we are the deathless wait. Only the forgotten songs remember our names, but does it matter? Identities get lost in the wrinkles of time and faces blur away, remembrances fade and we are the few who keep living even after that, nameless, faceless. We hang the moon on the arch of the sky and sprinkle the darkness with the flickers of fleeting light. We sing with shattered voices a tale of marred souls and cry for consumed hearts and springs forever gone. We are the smile of the autumn leaves that float haplessly in the north winds, we are the silver that crowns the land when the cold creeps in, we are the wind’s harrowing cry we are the sighing of languid grief. We sleep where the stars shriek their emptiness in the darkling sky and the water mirrors the still night. We rest in earthen cradles under countless skies, in the arms of the forsaken, in the solace of lost memories. When the wings of the angel break, we gather the bloodied feathers. When beauty dissolves we are the ugly face that stares back. We are the voices in your head we are the faces in the mirror. We are the embodiment of despair and tears we are reincarnation of fear. We are the footsteps in your shadows, just a few steps behind; we are the echoes in your silence, waiting inside. We are you.