They tremble in your wake,
big, claw-footed
in their earth shattering steps.
Huddled mass
a ghostly tsunami
inhabitants of the inky corners,
where you cohabit with the spirits of your songs
heard echoing in the ancient caves,
huddled around your icy campfires
in hopes of shooing the spirits from the door.
The dark ones do a jig at your fears,
dance mightily at your shoulder shaking,
erupt in pleasure
in their superiority.
While you cower--
afraid,
singing your sad songs.
Homage to their victories.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 9:06 AM UTC
They tremble in your wake,
big, claw-footed
in their earth shattering steps.
Huddled mass
a ghostly tsunami
inhabitants of the inky corners,
where you cohabit with the spirits of your songs
heard echoing in the ancient caves,
huddled around your icy campfires
in hopes of shooing the spirits from the door.
The dark ones do a jig at your fears,
dance mightily at your shoulder shaking,
erupt in pleasure
in their superiority.
While you cower--
afraid,
singing your sad songs.
Homage to their victories.