Shrouds glinting
Spirits flickering
The dead being raised
The sacrifice is placed.

For the pain a soul carries
Only her sweet mother marries
Sons and fathers though, unite
In the glory of the horror night.

Wine glasses clinking
High peasants blinking
Doomsday is arriving
With them men not realizing.

Further down the hill
Where all hell kills
The dragon awaits
The forests set ablaze.

What's left are the stones
They tell stories worth the tones.
Hurriedly arranged in cabinets
Then left for the joy of lunch next.

I lingered a while longer and smelled the dirt
The blood on that shirt
Rotten wine on the curd.
And I sigh off the pie.
It made me realize

We are merely an ant long
And yet we strive for a mile.
What shall happen in this Halloween rite
Is definitely a mystery worth the while.