Ecarlate Lune

I walk the streets most times at night
Through the limpid pools of light
Trees cast veins upon my face.
Night,
Is such a silent place.

All the better so to hear demons whisper in my ear
Chuckle dryly on my face,
As my thoughts keep even pace.
Phantom shadows dart and wheel
And my soul does cease to feel,
Part and portion
Shard and seam
Of my mortal mirrors gleam

Damned is my soul to all possession
To attend the nights confession
For morality knows not in all the things it does confide;
To the voyeur of humanity
The bed of all profanity,
The witness to the very dawn of time and still before

The moon casts out its ghost
To bewitch its grateful host
And to fill the lonely shadows with it’s sinuous demise.
Then the first bedeviled spheres
Prelude a death of countless tears,
But the legions take no heed of all the carnage as they fall,
To instil themselves upon us
To make graveyards of us all,
But my solitary grieving seeks to end the suicide.

So again on through the night,
Amid the pools of limpid light.
Trees cast veins upon my face
Once again, a silent place
But for demons in my ear
Phantom shadows here and there
With their dark insensate yawnings that are harbored just from sight.

A final time on through the night
Through the night until the light
Dawns its shades upon the ground
And the life in me
Is found.