Evening of little Spooks and Wights.
All sneaking and tricking.
Treats, all there, making a show.
A celebration of New Times past.
Before the extra days.
Before our towers of fanatical
Science guarded Faith
Back when the magic
Was real
With Terrors and Dooms
Near by any tavern or tree.
I sleep to visit those dreams
Awake they show up in wonderment.
Anyone can believe, again.
Just by noticing the way the world has
Its spiked bits of eldritch sway.
Like something exciting beautiful
Which grinds down your doubt
Leaving only the happy surprise
Mixed with good old honest lust.
Magic in the dark.
