It's dark here in Newgrange,
Especially on cloudy days,
Especially here, in the drear of Winter.

Only on certain holy days that mark the passage of the season,
Only by reason of a little doubt,
The courtroom clout clears away,
But for only a tiny portion of the day
While the sun shines in.

But the sea wind blows every day
And takes away a part of me,
And I can only wait and see
If the card my heart has played
Is the guilty part,
Or the guilty party.

The sun will shine in my room again
After the passing of a little more time,
And I can see what bones remain
Here, in. Newgrange.
And it is right that 360 days are for gloom,
And only four, and never any more,
Are made to shine in,
For Newgrange is a tomb, afterall.

-jenn