Black Gallows
The black gallows moan in the shadowy glade where,
vaguely lit by the autumn moon, dark blue pierces the night and the river murmurs of mad seas, of raging waters.
Contained in the vast ether, I am a shivering willow journeying down the winding river.
On the banks, the wolves howl, white-fanged with stealthy eyes.
In this haunted forest, the incubus takes hold.
The black gallows moan in the shadowy glade where,
embroidered with crimson moss, the billowing trees leave me breathless, trembling beside the rushing waters.
Hurled by the river’s current, my heart races in sync with the lunar tide.
I hear ravens clamoring, the moonlight gleaming off their ominous feathers
as I spiral down, the tempest thrusting me toward the abyss.
The black gallows moan in the shadowy glade where,
my eyes are wide open, but my body is frozen in time
and I see things that are not there.
Looking down on my slumber, the night prowler seizes my soul
endowing the twilight with evil intent.
Jagged claws, tipped with blood, clutching at my throat.
The black gallows moan in the shadowy glade where,
a ring of fire engulfs me, humming, hissing, crackling, roaring,
elevating me to his phantom silhouette,
and his menacing laughter takes possession of my very last breath.
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