Chapter 69. Festival of Death in the Middle of the Dead. P4

“The sky is sleeping

Asleep as the sound running,

Round and round in cycle

As the wind blows in.“

“Behind the clouds in the sky,

Moon hides its light,

Tasting the dark

That will never come to spark.

"Did you write this poem because you missed me? I was only delayed for three days on my expedition," she said with a smile as she read the draft he had accidentally left on the table.

“Would you like to see me?

But blind to see the mask