Comes.
Mystical runes cast
The old forgotten songs sung.
I summon all my power from white fire.
It approaches stealthily;
The darkest hour.

The blackened *** will be stirred.
Words unspoken for a thousand years,
From blood less lips said.
Owls talons, lizards and toadstools,
With this potion my small vial fill.

Dragons, demons, imps and sprites,
Salute in homage  and bow down.
Ghosts appear if I so desire.
With a wave of my hands.
The contents of the glowing cauldron,
Bubbling fiercely,
Turning the future red.

And so with out announcement
Striking of twelve on the hour
What was foretold has begun
It comes;
The darkest hour.


This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby Sept. 21, 2014.