sunsets, as beautiful as they are,
are always followed by the stark uncertainty of night.
even the full moon can show no light
through the dense labyrinth of our forest,
thick, winding, terrifying.
wolves come out to play,
unexpected, unyielding,
tearing apart my flesh, feasting on my bone.
the dusk has gone, succeeded only by a starless sky,
fog shielding any sign of hope from view.
the beauty had vanished just as quickly as it had come.
