Dusk is here. Neither early nor late.
Her arrival’s a breath before the plunge
Night awaits, the cleanest of slates
Into the twilight the duskwalker is lunged.

The wind whispers, leaves rustle
A silence that talks, he listens
Dusk confides, ever so subtle
Her only lover, to him she premonitions.

Trees giggle and the moon gleams
Her end draws near as more stars appear
These are the lights in his dreams
“Duskwalker keep walking, face your fear.”

And so he mutters in tears:
“Thank you for the wisdom and strength
oh most loved of all seers
between day and night, the sweetest length.”

His spirit now ready to face the blackest of darknesses
For when light is to finally dawn, his fate he harnesses.