Evening storms across western horizons,

Lonely fields of haunting grass,

Wind whimpers over vacated isles,

Corrupted homes, with filching iron and brass.

Storm reigns high-like echoes of horror,

Windswept tears of reckless abandon,

Like Bell-tops along river streams,

Between mountains and valleys, the lost companion.

Richly muted leaves dance across barren paths,

Church bells, like voices in the distance, ring.

The Cemetery looms with grave delight,

The ghosts, with gleeful desire atop their tombstones, sing:

“The music flows from one bridge to another,

Dawn falls with thundering elapse.

A man-cloaked in darkness, wanders asleep,

Treading north of no-man-pass.

Freedom comes west of nowhere,

The king dreams of kingdom light,

Sun-kissing, well-wishing Prophets of Legend,

Whispering across nourished grounds illuminated, ‘Goodnight.’”

Photo by Chad Greiter on Unsplash