Softly, as though the shadows might hear us

we crept the length of the hall

almost neverending, our breaths short and fast

melting into darkness of the after-dusk

Our longing for a glimpse out of the window

kept us moving forward

against the heartbeats that tried to hold us back

Then through stained glass we watched the bonfires

stark against the midnight world beyond

Everything centered on the writhing flame

our breath rising and falling with it

reflected in our eyes and distorted

even as our bodies felt its warmth

Dawn was far off, and might never come

and so the night ruled all

from our souls gone willingly to the fires

burning beyond glass and a distance we could not cross

to the masses fallen to their knees at the last

begging for passage through the final gate

held by the unworthy who have come before

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Snow in Denver is a sight to see.

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Photo by Jens Mahnke from Pexels