The thinning veil, as autumn nights descend,
Reveals the breath of those who walked before,
A whispered chill where golden leaves suspend,
And stirs the silent hearth with tales of yore.
The stars hang low; the sky grows dark and deep,
While moonlight paints the fields in silver glow,
The world a dream, as quiet spirits creep
To walk the paths they knew so long ago.
Through hollow woods, a murmured calling swells,
The voices of the past, both kin and friend,
And distant chimes of spectral midnight bells
Remind us all that life must someday end.
Yet in this night, the realms of death and birth
Embrace as one—the bridge ’twixt worlds and earth.