Shadows walk between earth and spirit,
Every black laced soul mourning that which is to come,
Whispering strange mysteries that kiss against my skin and soul
And fill me with foreboding.
Not for myself, but for all of those who wander in the darkness,
Fumbling around without a lightning bolt of truth to light their path.
I do not fear the shadows of those who once were,
Nor do I fear what is to come.
I am their voice.
What does a shadow have to fear from other shadows?