Flip the hourglass, close the book, Light the candle, set the hook. Up through the trapdoor, onto the roof, Out in the weather where ravens roost. Silver in lightning, fire in smoke, Darkness is blooming, devouring hope. Wind through the rafters, teeth in the gale, Whispers like fingers that tug at the veil. Shattered crystal, splintered and dull, Damp wool clinging, heavy as lull. Casting the cards with a gambler’s pull— Turn them all over… it’s always the Fool. Ash on the breath and ash on the tongue, Songs half-remembered, never quite sung. Circles unbroken, bargains unspun— Chasing the end where it’s never begun.