Death, Drought, Pestilence and Midnight Nightmares

Death, Drought, Pestilence And Midnight Nightmares The whitewashed sand, little flowered ocean The beaming moon splattered its shadows and light The Gypsie's cried but still gave up their potion And the angry wolves followed next howling at night Rain-colored splashes hit and soaked tree tops The deep dark was split by soft hesitant moon rays Out in the verdant fields, the blue-fairies' dance stop Ahead was mass of monsters hidden held at bay Heraldic stars shown with innocence virginal Hector had died and Achilles was laid to rest Here in the blacken real world life was terminal Both Mark Twain, the gambler, held their cards to their chests. Infinite shadows wait in the dark underground. We yet waiting for ours, dared not a single sound. Robert J. Lindley, Dark sonnet Sept 3rd, 1972