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In a plum-colored meadow
High upon a steep mountain,
I dance bare-footed, a shadow
Deep in the dark, windy night,
Dread pouring like a fountain,
Twirling in and out of sight.
Gales are howling in my ears,
Whipping me around the field,
I fly, a raven you must fear,
Dark majesty for me to wield.
Pushed by a strong whirlwind,
Legs entangled, I tumble down,
The flesh of my hands skinned,
Torn and bleeding,
By the rubble on the ground
At the edge of the clearing.
Paralyzed, I remain there,
The wind now an icy blast,
And terrible images blare
In my mind of an ancient past:
The crimson-stained walls of
An eldritch villain's lair,
Wintry screams coming from above,
Or below, or from all around.
Death permeates the air
And steals the world without a sound.
My blood rushes within me,
Clambering through my veins
To escape the calamity
That this mountainous land contains.
I scramble away, wailing,
The dread that once was mine
Betraying me, prevailing
Over me as I stare
At the gaping landscape supine
And forsake myself.
//f//
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