Nocturne
a poem by NancyGene (2021)

The clouds move across the sky like the sheets of Hades,
blacks and grays of shivering shapes from beds of death
urging mortals toward a final sleep, and I am ill at ease.

I am not sure where the danger lies and I catch my breath,
but fear wafts on the cold whispers of the fiends of the forest,
their jinks fatal to us but risible to those on the night chase

after you, me and any who dare to venture with the rest
of the seekers of the edge of a world we cannot embrace
but which calls out as surely as a mother to her lost children.

I trip and fall over the rotting log and almost into the fresh
and reeking grave that could not have been dug by mortal men,
then I gag and retch at the sight of bloody pieces of torn flesh

from what I see had been the caretaker of this grim park
of souls who are restless and vengeful on known evil nights,
when the innocent and the chill-seekers are targets for the dark.

I am scared and would trade all sights now for the safety of lights
but I am encircled by forms and mists of horrible thoughts,
which I oddly know have come from me and my true destiny,

not of charity and godly deeds, but evil collecting a soul bought.
I see my life under the cloak of the clouds, dreadful debauchery
without a care of where it would lead me when it seemingly ends.

I will change, repent and care for those who are most in need,
I swear, as vengeful wraiths move closer and moon beams bend
to shine their light in the trough of the grave as I plead and bleed.

Morning is here in my earthy home but I am unable to see or rise.
I am dirt and the clouds are white and I surmise that I will spend
this nothingness waiting, hoping to trade it for your own demise.

On Sunday, October 15, 2023 at 10:55:04 AM UTC, NancyGene wrote:
> Nocturne
> a poem by NancyGene (2021)
>
> The clouds move across the sky like the sheets of Hades,
> blacks and grays of shivering shapes from beds of death
> urging mortals toward a final sleep, and I am ill at ease.
>
> I am not sure where the danger lies and I catch my breath,
> but fear wafts on the cold whispers of the fiends of the forest,
> their jinks fatal to us but risible to those on the night chase
>
> after you, me and any who dare to venture with the rest
> of the seekers of the edge of a world we cannot embrace
> but which calls out as surely as a mother to her lost children.
>
> I trip and fall over the rotting log and almost into the fresh
> and reeking grave that could not have been dug by mortal men,
> then I gag and retch at the sight of bloody pieces of torn flesh
>
> from what I see had been the caretaker of this grim park
> of souls who are restless and vengeful on known evil nights,
> when the innocent and the chill-seekers are targets for the dark.
>
> I am scared and would trade all sights now for the safety of lights
> but I am encircled by forms and mists of horrible thoughts,
> which I oddly know have come from me and my true destiny,
>
> not of charity and godly deeds, but evil collecting a soul bought.
> I see my life under the cloak of the clouds, dreadful debauchery
> without a care of where it would lead me when it seemingly ends.
>
> I will change, repent and care for those who are most in need,
> I swear, as vengeful wraiths move closer and moon beams bend
> to shine their light in the trough of the grave as I plead and bleed.
>
> Morning is here in my earthy home but I am unable to see or rise.
> I am dirt and the clouds are white and I surmise that I will spend
> this nothingness waiting, hoping to trade it for your own demise.

Always carry a flashlight with fresh batteries if you go on walks in the evening.

On Tuesday, October 17, 2023 at 1:46:14 PM UTC, NancyGene wrote:
> On Sunday, October 15, 2023 at 10:55:04 AM UTC, NancyGene wrote:
> > Nocturne
> > a poem by NancyGene (2021)
> >
> > The clouds move across the sky like the sheets of Hades,
> > blacks and grays of shivering shapes from beds of death
> > urging mortals toward a final sleep, and I am ill at ease.
> >
> > I am not sure where the danger lies and I catch my breath,
> > but fear wafts on the cold whispers of the fiends of the forest,
> > their jinks fatal to us but risible to those on the night chase
> >
> > after you, me and any who dare to venture with the rest
> > of the seekers of the edge of a world we cannot embrace
> > but which calls out as surely as a mother to her lost children.
> >
> > I trip and fall over the rotting log and almost into the fresh
> > and reeking grave that could not have been dug by mortal men,
> > then I gag and retch at the sight of bloody pieces of torn flesh
> >
> > from what I see had been the caretaker of this grim park
> > of souls who are restless and vengeful on known evil nights,
> > when the innocent and the chill-seekers are targets for the dark.
> >
> > I am scared and would trade all sights now for the safety of lights
> > but I am encircled by forms and mists of horrible thoughts,
> > which I oddly know have come from me and my true destiny,
> >
> > not of charity and godly deeds, but evil collecting a soul bought.
> > I see my life under the cloak of the clouds, dreadful debauchery
> > without a care of where it would lead me when it seemingly ends.
> >
> > I will change, repent and care for those who are most in need,
> > I swear, as vengeful wraiths move closer and moon beams bend
> > to shine their light in the trough of the grave as I plead and bleed.
> >
> > Morning is here in my earthy home but I am unable to see or rise.
> > I am dirt and the clouds are white and I surmise that I will spend
> > this nothingness waiting, hoping to trade it for your own demise.
> Always carry a flashlight with fresh batteries if you go on walks in the evening.
It's a little known fact that when the sun goes all the way down, it's night. IOW, if you see the sun, you can say good morning or good afternoon, and if you can't you can say good evening. It's simple.