The Speed of Darkness

 
How quickly
the mistress descends
Her stairway needs no trumpet call
devouring horizons with a stare
as ocean and mountain
surrender to her spell
and night eyed creatures stir
to worship the blood of shadows
at the altar of curtain's fall
Her silence
wears thunder like a crown
swallowing clouds until dawn
while fools lost on the moors
cling to the moonlight
and drown