I asked when I was a child

Why the dark was so scary and wild.

Why the day had to die

And steal the blue from the sky.

Why in growing shadow did the Reachers scrape

As the barriers between our worlds lost their shape.

She stroked my hair and said

The dark was a reminder for little ones to go to bed.

That the day needed rest, too

Before the next day began anew.

And that there would always be those who stood vigil

At the ready with Implement and sigil.

For even though the sun falls before the feet of night

The moon, without fail, rises share its light.

– Poem from Arcana Archives, Author Unknown

Material: Japanese Maple Burl

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