they have come back.
the sky is ashes.
I would run to you
but it is too late
Winter moon, old house
Woman walks, trails grey fingers,
Scented with the grave.
(Source)
The darkness drops again but now I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?