Twilight
Anito

I call softly to the wind
An ancient prayer, older even
than the  Trees of  Sorrow
But he eludes me.

I take a step
Farther down than was expected.
I fall
I grasp

Yet none would touch me
Yet none would hold me
As I weep

Too late, I realize
It is never Morning
It is never Light

I chant softly to the wind
An ancient prayer of longing, unfulfilled
As the prayers of the trees.

For they too have asked
They too have sought the prayers
That started with time, never in it.

And we wait, mourners in silence
For the many who shall ask
Why we weep

Too late You realize
'Tis always mourning
Till you end the night.

I cry softly with the wind.