When samhain Comes: a Halloween poem
Samhain approaches, the mist falls low,
Where worlds divide and shadows grow.
The veils grow thin, the stars turn pale,
And whispers ride the autumn gale.
The hearth burns dim, the candles gleam,
Each flicker births another dream.
Through silence deep, the spirits wend,
Old blood, old breath, the ages blend.
From hollowed earth to moonlit skies,
The dead return with ancient eyes.
Their laughter dances through the leaves,
Their sorrow sighs where darkness weaves.
In mortal halls, we feel their tread,
A chill that walks beside the dead.
And in the night’s consuming seam,
All that’s left are screams—
to feed the fright, to wake the dream.
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