Ensconced under the arbor, musing on to the starry night,
He followed the little cracks on the discoloring pedestals,
Soft knocks by falling snow, blurred the proud rose,
Nature actualizing a home on to this garden, on to this arbor,
Vines crippling back, fireflies veiling inside the cracks,
He held his gaze on to the northern star, on to the maturing dark.
An epiphany nestling inside the falling dream, falling shadow,
Embracing the besmirching rose, it surged above the falling snow,
Imperfectly perfecting this newly made home, he smiled,
Upon accepting, he saw the transition in this failing greyscale,
Until it disappeared, he held on to his arbor, his home, his catacomb,
He held his gaze on to the northern star, on to the maturing dark.
