We cut the night air with wings of black,
we cut the life strings at twilight's blessing.
My brethern and I see far and wide,
for we are many.
There is no escape,
no hole can hide you,
nor disguise
mask a spirit
so foul.
We bring you home to purgatory to sit and
roost in a black shed of despair,
to dwell upon a life where dark leanings
led you to dissolution of a soul that
sought heights they were never meant to fly.
So contemplate, ponder,
wander this dim world between
darkness and light,
and perhaps we shall
return.
By Philip Wardlow
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