The shadow

loss and grief.

Covert art thou eyes,

for no light shall burn through this black shade.

For darkness holds thy face with palm of ice
and with thy fingers of cold bone.
Glimpse no more at thee,
joust this visions of retribution through to thy heart.
For thou shall not be thy witness of coarse verse
for thou shall not be thy ink of scratched scribe
and leave no breathing air for which to remember thee by in thy fallen caveat.
For salvation shall not rest in thy shadow,
nor console in thy presence.
Where weak water flows
I shall bathe,
where stale winds blows
I shall breathe,
where knotted tree grows,
I shall sleep.
Gnarled an gnawn,
wretched and worn,
weaving thy crescent of sorrow
on thy blistered brow.

This is the last of the long
the sleep of the dead shall wake with thee
I shall be the shadow of life
the carpenter's ruin.