Midnight's Cauldron

Oh, dark temptress and torturer Holder of the keys of Mordor. Your soothing darkness but a ruse A bed of scented petals Laid atop a snare of evil, A lie conjured by an aching heart Beneath a coldly cryptic moon. No warmth will ease that cruel chill The eerie sense that says stay clear As mesmerized we gaze in awe Into the depth of darkened sky Entranced by starlight’s distant hope We feel the tug of Merlin’s staff Upon the edge of Gollum’s soul.