For the one night a year –

For the impossible stretches out fears,

farther reach towards possibilities overtly sheered;

Those lying in wait,

surrounded of sizable crates,

beneath filthy layers....

Sputter about as an opening puckers' at the gates;

Once more the retching mouths harsh with grim,

sporadically awoken; get to reuse shriveled limbs -

slipping; weaving; tearing through period disheveled things,

standing partially on once strong stems,

listening upon sounds for sore ears – given reminders of loss reheard,

true: a few may climb out in rambled parts – only natural to occur,

have another look upon changes the world left upon shutting eyes,

for on this gloaming, night-a-year ceremonious evening:
all he unrested,
shall again become animated from echoing cries.