Lurking in the shadows - on a groggy

Gas lit night. He, who followed so many

To their deaths, in this age of the machine,

Sits alone, bereft of sight.

He sees the tender white crosses-row-on-row-on-row,

Rising in a whirlwind, on a night of swirling snow,

He hears the creaking branches, catches a whiff,

Of lying Lady Fortune who's a-floating on the breeze,

Pleased he was, immensely.  More fool he.

 

He shows himself to darkness -

To its fondest acolytes - 

To death and sin and misery -

On this blackest of coal-black nights.

Gross infirmity of mind

Leaves him gasping in the wake:

Such true and false lucidity

For bitter chaos-sake.

 

As far as mortal eyes can see:

On this deepest-of-deep--black nights,

Sentient beings

Hold their breaths in, tight,

Cling to the merest tincture

Of any old belief.

While gothic visions coagulate;

Time's an ungodly thief.