The House Left Unguarded

He swept the dust from the rafters,
Cast out the broken things.
The echoes of old burdens had fled,
Whispers retreat into silence.

For a moment, the house stood empty—
walls bare, halls waiting.
The weight was gone, but so was the warmth.
Nothing remained to fill the quiet.

A wind passed through, low and knowing,
a voice in the hollow corridors.
Emptiness is an invitation,
a door left open unseen.

Then, footfalls. Then, hunger.
The presence crept back in,
not as it had been—but stronger,
filling what had been left unguarded.

Outside, the traveler stood still,
watching the light fade at the edges.
It was not sufficient to cleanse—
the house must be filled with fire,
or it will welcome the night again.