Guitar Sorcerer

He steps into moonlight, strings ablaze, A spell-bound master in a midnight haze. Notes crack like lightning, dark flames rise, Echoes twisting through spectral skies. From covens deep and forests old, He forged a sound both fierce and bold. A serpent’s hiss, a banshee’s wail, His fingers dance—an eerie tale. The runes he carved upon the fret, Summon storms not soon forget. A single chord—a whispered curse, Reality bends, the heavens burst. Shadows coil around his hands, Summoned forth from haunted lands. Specters hum, the witches chant, A melody none dare recant. Blackened sparks upon the strings, Woven spells in trembling things. A tremolo dark, a sorcery wild, A lullaby sung by the moon’s lost child. Thunder answers every shred, Winds obey the notes he bled. A final wail—a spectral end, And silence bows to music’s bend.