When the Red Butterflies Fly

On a night in November with a full moon sky There is a graveyard in the Highlands where spirits fly Scriptures of old are chanted by the past As they rise through the earth as the red ones are cast Gravestones levitate with precision and ease As dark angels in black glide through the trees To a stone they surround as they circle above Slowly they transform into an ebony dark dove Upon this stone it perches as it awaits the await For when the red butterflies fly, the light they desecrate The sky turns from night into a reddy dawn As the moon hits their red their spirits now flown They land where they land, guided by the dark dove Their quest is to capture and lure life's love In the village near the graveyard on this November night A population in fear, in fright of their light Before the sun rises souls are drawn as if sprites No care for the living, their presence leaves blight A new day starts as if the previous night never happened For when the red butterflies fly, come this November night You may be summoned