Halloween wraps fear in innocence, as though it were a lightly sour sweet. Let terror, then, be turned into a treat.

Love of life at times requires death

Mothers are the place that we call home. On them we rest our heads and close our eyes. There's no one else who grants the same soft peace, happiness, contentment, sweet release, erasing righttime tears with lullabies, restoring the bright sun that makes us bloom.

On Halloween, witches come true; Wild ghosts escape from dreams. Each monster dances in the park.

Hobgoblins know the proper way to dance: Arms akimbo, loopy legs askew, Leaping into darkness with delight, Lusting for the ecstasy of fright, Open to the charm of horrors new.

...A fuel-less flame is nothing but a wraith, However wrought, if unsustained by passion.

Angels are quite ample cause to cry.