Night of the Drowned

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By rugged paths through the woodlands green,
In younger years I walked often there between…
The yellow flowers that grew by the sad pond,
Which never stirred, save by breath of beyond…
And the darker forests where old spirits played,
Near ruins where once-lost folk piously prayed!
Complete was the lonely majesty of that domain,
So indifferent to human desires, dreams, or pain!
Alone I walked, like a spirit haunting a dwelling…
Familiar from some past days: oddly compelling.
What enchantment bore me hither I’ll not know!
Better to ask the wind why it was born to blow.

Ere night had fallen, I beheld sights so uncanny,
Brought to this world by some ghostly company.
To speak of them is like to treat of some dream,
Wherein one may know delights but also scream.
Oh silent waters, what was reflected within you?
If only they could speak, the waters faded blue!
Perhaps terror keeps them silent, unable to tell…
The secrets they witnessed, of Heaven and Hell.
Mayhap sometimes fear is brought on by delight,
So profound, that it keeps one in an eternal night.
If you ask the waters, they shall not tell you this…
For they are lost, either in silence or infinite bliss!

Beneath the crescent moon, a goddess’s crown,
Yellow flowers become white, as winter’s gown.
As colorless as the faces looking up from under…
Whilst in the sky cracked a loud clap of thunder.
The drowned ones: who dwell down in the murk,
Saw me peering at the waters wherein they lurk!
I looked away unable to bear each bloated face,
Lost in the depths trapped far from God’s grace.
I felt the touch of someone behind me, just then…
Turning around to see a beautiful ghostly maiden.
She passed through me, wading out in the deep,
To drown herself anew, where no fish will creep!


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