October 31st In History Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The harvest ends, the veil grows thin,
Where ancient Samhain nights begin.
Then Luther's pen on church doors stays,
To spark a fire of changing ways.

Across the plains, a road is laid,
From East to West, the path is made.
In Nevada's hills, the stars align,
As thirty-six becomes the sign.

The granite faces watch the sun,
The mountain work at last is done.
But shadows fall on power's stage,
As tyrants write a darker page.

On courts of wood, a player stands,
To break the lines with skillful hands.
In distant lands, a leader falls,
While silence echoes through the halls.

And in the glow of glowing screens,
A digital code begins its scenes.
A date of ghosts, of laws, of might,
Stored in the pulse of October's night.