You always have to keep a candle burning.
They will forever chase the living, crying for help, laughing in the drawers.
Weariness is waiting inside every person, constantly speaking, whispering through shores.
The delineation between holy and faint is death, embracing every living creature, chasing it through sleep.
Strands of hair are paths through these worlds. Seed their hair in soil,
lock it inside a sacred object, you will see gossamer lights entering the room.