End damned and next be better

There is something of the grave
all about these nights. 
Something that creeps in with
the long moments of afternoon. 

Its as if it fills the air
where the sun stretches across the land. 
Something rimed in the cold
that drives everything in the direction of despair. 

As if clinging even in joy
is a gnawing nagging worry.
Silver linings palled
By darkening clouds.

that this will be the last 
Or won't capture all it needs