Spirits of the Dead
Again aroused to trepidation!
With the moon adrift beyond,
Voices speaking desolation,
O’er the forest and the frond.
Spirits of the dead bewaliing,
All the sorrows of the hour,
Even Jesus unavailing,
Even He disposed to cower.
Mournfulness in repetition,
Dolefulness to still the heart,
Miseries in premonition,
As the echoed terrors start.
Through the cave and through the chasm,
Underneath the gibbous moon,
Prompted to a frightful spasm,
Given to a sickly swoon.
Blasphemies supremely chilling,
Aggravation to beguile,
All the eyes of darkness thrilling,
In their unrepentant style.
Spells pronounced against my person!
From satanic keeps afar,
Curses sickly, apt to worsen,
From the ocean to the star.
Unforgiving haunted hollows!
Redolent of Satan’s touch,
With decrepitude that follows,
Misery, and loss and such.
I am wakened by the banshee,
Bellowing refrains of hate,
In his raiment grim and ghostly,
Out the depths of Sheol’s gate.
Destitute the midnight gripping!
Lonely by the ruined hall,
Sanity abruptly slipping,
Cataclysmal comes the call!
Scampering to find a shelter,
Scurrying to deeper shade,
In accursedness to welter,
Stricken in the everglade.
Ivy glinting, growing blackly,
Trees bereft against the skies,
With my garments flowing slackly,
Watched by sharp, satanic eyes.
Dereliction is endemic,
Through the fallen universe,
Hatefulness a wry pandemic,
In a hellscape getting worse.
I will seek the holy spirit!
As a guide affording peace,
Only He can grace inspirit,
Only He can bring release…
