In this season, early fails the light
And early folds the will for future plans
No reason for guessing at that which might
Or could have been in other lifespans

The meal has been laid on the table
As the westering sun glowers it last
But I find myself restless and unable
To do anything but pace, my food bypassed

So many dead, erased before true night
Each stretched by a world that hands
Lives taut like an overburdened cable
That snaps with no relief, no holdfast

I saw you battle Ravana, victory in sight
Mane of your hair aflame like firebrands
Yet the mounts of hell ever pour from their stable
And you could not defend against all the past