Dark Muse
A fell wind blows across the harvested fields that surround my home, foreshadowing winter's promise.
The chill wind brings with it an old friend, one who comes 'round with the turning of the leaves... It is my own personal demon, a malefic creature who burrows into my skull and wraps icy fingers around my heart.
Its stranglehold is unforgiving, fettering me to the lettered keys that even now my fingers dance across.
What tales has it brought to me this Samhain season?
What verse shall flow like blood from an eviserated wound and spill across virgin paper?
Already they have begun to take shape, rising up on dark wings and enveloping me like a hallowed shroud.
Will they find an audience?
Is there anyone out there waiting to take a peek into the darkest recesses of my demon-haunted mind?
We'll see...
I mean, you're reading this now.
Aren't you the tiniest bit curious as to what witches brew of sinister delights is being stirred within the caliginosity of my gray matter?
The chill wind brings with it an old friend, one who comes 'round with the turning of the leaves... It is my own personal demon, a malefic creature who burrows into my skull and wraps icy fingers around my heart.
Its stranglehold is unforgiving, fettering me to the lettered keys that even now my fingers dance across.
What tales has it brought to me this Samhain season?
What verse shall flow like blood from an eviserated wound and spill across virgin paper?
Already they have begun to take shape, rising up on dark wings and enveloping me like a hallowed shroud.
Will they find an audience?
Is there anyone out there waiting to take a peek into the darkest recesses of my demon-haunted mind?
We'll see...
I mean, you're reading this now.
Aren't you the tiniest bit curious as to what witches brew of sinister delights is being stirred within the caliginosity of my gray matter?
posted by Bob Freeman at 9:37 PM
1 Comments:
I posted up a picture of my altar and a poem I wrote several years ago:
http://www.bythemoon.org/bluemoon/?p=432
The poem was one of those beautiful, happy things that spring out of a well-done, well-felt ritual. Right in the middle of everything, there it was. I couldn't get to a pen fast enough.
Your post was beautiful. Winter is my favorite time of year. Today here in Kentucky, it's cold, dark, rainy - but that's some of my favorite weather.
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