In the forest / dimly lit and black
the trees sway back / and forth in the wind.
The moon shines / glowing divine.

The graveyard damp / and the midnight dark
chills this young champ / without a spark
resting / sleeping.
Until the midnight / in lunar gaze
fades into day / in this corn maze
ghosts play with the flute.
The land bleeding / from severed heads
rains down with red / into the midnight
into the rust / along stones.

In the forest / dimly lit and black
the trees sway back / and forth in the wind.
The moon shines / glowing divine.

Perhaps someday, the midnight hours,
as the day approaches.

Will no longer bleed.