Light the Fire

A humble flow, Trembles down the window pane, As the creatures make noise, The air talks, Calming of the night, Brings a figure, Dark but deep sight, Eyes staring in fright, From another world, I don't know, But mysteriously seen, Not heard, Nothing to show. Just an indecisive man, A spirit perhaps, Walking into a land, Without an understanding, Maybe running laps, Pondering such vague outlooks, On the outlining formation, The one we see in the mirror, Or at a visitation, Reflecting upon oneself, From that one very image seen, Tip toeing back to bed, Visited by the walking dead.