November is the Holy Souls in Purgatory in the Roman Catholic Church Month. (Othello - Act 3, scene 3) Iago: O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss, Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger: But O, what damnèd minutes tells he o'er Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves! Othello: O misery! ~ The darkness stays too long, the suffering runs through, the demise of grace and the soul are shackled there. We have to retake the night, our grievance is emergent, our feet, idle, our eyes, closed too tightly to rattle speech. The cycle courses from end to end as we turn our faces eastward and our armies march across the living, over the mountains and the streams. We carry our sins like a crystal chalice brimming hate, we’ve been enslaved by our own hand, tenders of work, awareness and dreams. The dawn stretches out, dusk shrouds our grief, our
(The Weaver's Song)