Things Will Come and Go

Late into night, the moon
white as blank sketch-paper,
my melancholy heart is filled
with doubt. Should I close
my eyes and miss the stars?
Will I forget the lovely sound
of howling wolves singing through
the darkness? What if morning
never wakes my mind, set free
and weightless as the clouds?
Inconstant winds outside my window
playing in the fluttering trees
reassure me things will come
and things will go exactly
as they please.

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