The Nightly Shadow
The shadow in the night beckons.
I slowly rise from my warm and cosy bed
Only to follow the urge that drives me mad
Into spectral half-fledged woodland,
That spreads beyond my lonely tower.
Without volition, I approach slowly
A great, gaunt gate that towered
Over a ghostly path among the ashen trees.
A pale moon lights the blanched greensward,
That covered thinly the winding trail,
And from afar, I hear a river,
I hear its humming, throbbing, low, ferocious call,
Meant to disturb the serenity of my soul.
But I force myself into my somnambulism,
And perhaps, lull myself to dream of angels.
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