Do you hear them, too?
The unseen are angry.
In the hours between the moon’s zenith
and its setting,
they fail once more to seize the gates
that separate our world from magic,
dark and light.
Their fires grow dim,
their eyes dimmer,
and their hopes are but
a fleeting spark.
They work far into the night
on keys, on enchantments, on weapons,
on wards.
They spend days fasting,
in prayer, in sacrifice,
before the thrones of their royalty,
and the temples of their gods.
They peek through our dreams,
and attack in our nightmares,
and scream in raging whispers
within the minds of those
who can hear them.
BlackQuill 