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.