Decay.

There is such magic in decay,

with softer embellishments for the blind,

such avarice in the burning,

while the less lonely begin to fade away,

such brilliance in the embers,

within the blazes of intricate design,

so slurped within a withering blight,

with sorcery of the flaming bright,

Such magic in the decay,
Such joy in the shadow of May.