re: LNST/NSRC/LNDT - 11/23/16 "Herm-Baw Edition"

There's no one else here in the witching hour.

It's as dead as dead can be.

I'm reminded of sleepless nights when mortals would sleep.

When those whom normal hours would keep.

And every brow would retire.

But some must always tend the fire.
And those embers ancient call,
To the ones who wouldn't fall,
Eyes which into coals would stare,
At the secrets kept in there.

The wolves howl. The roosters Crow. Crickets chirp. Cruel winds blow.
Here, in this place, there's an ancient song,
Where mortals don't belong,
So the gods, for most, send sleep,
But a cursed few still keep.
The flames alight. The coals alive.
Because the gift, it must survive