Fist of Night

Lost in the dark, tangled in silken threads

     skeleton fingers of gnarled oak twist,

     leaving empty spaces between lunacy

     and distorted visions of obsidian darkness.

Mourning in cobalt skies of midnight hours

     forest becomes the enemy of old wounds,

     stones knead blisters on quivering feet -

     confusion of illusions in dress of doom.

Muted energy splinters along my trail

     unraveling nerves in soupy congealed mist,

     rough sands of time lingering in deep recesses.

Fist of night pummels in long reach of silence

     an eroding numbness fading into nothingness.

     hovering moon swirling over river edge illuminates,

     following the sunrise into spirit of new beginnings.