out
in
sense makes itself again
the image turns
and so we yearn
to let it all begin
how often not
we dance in step
the fear of flux
we feel inept
crimson light covers all
as we stand in awe
flitting
flowing
fleeting
the bird comes out
the bird goes in
we are almost to the end
reach up high
then down low
let that blood flow
walk to the ends
meet with friends
make sense of it again
reach the crest
wish your best
in
out
is this the rest?

Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Ero, in the year 914 AF.