The full moon rises, her glow shining through her mantle
of dark clouds lured forth from the depths,
the aftermath of a storm's vengeance –
a sight born to put upon us the night's eldritch weave;
a sight truly bred for All Hallows' Eve.
She casts shadows throughout this night,
falling off innocent objects to become
shapes known only to your mind –
she leaves a black pall
to hang over us all.
Even worse, when those nebulous wisps of the sky
cast a veil over her, hiding us from her purview,
for she was your only guide –
now we all are left simply to drift,
through this night, evil's gift.
All Hallows' Moon, it shall be called, a beacon
in the shroud of this night; but don't thank her,
for you need light to reveal the depth of the darkness –
of your soul, do not allow the blackness bereave,
on this sepulchral night, All Hallows' Eve.