To be read by candlelight on the cusp of winter’s birth and autumn’s demise.
Peels of booming thunder and flashes of slicing lightning not included. Ghost noises optional…
Canary in a coalmine
Vultures bound and gagged
Winged famished sages circling
Making feasts from the dead
A klaxon boldly sounding
Do you hear its deafening knell
Your hell has become your heaven
Your heaven has become your hell
Mausoleum of the mind
Winter of the soul
Fools’ debts will be payed in full
Before the silver bells toll
Silencing of the songbirds
That sweet harmony that cures
That uplifts souls of troubled folk
Till the requiem of fear endures
© 2019 IC Blackman