Beneath the pall of midnight drear,
Where whispers haunt the ear,
Lurk shadows deep, where light doth fear,
In silence, they appear.
With velvet steps, they softly tread,
Across the moonlit floor,
In every corner, dread is spread,
Through the night’s darkened door.
They speak in tongues of ancient lore,
Of secrets, time has kept,
In their embrace, the light’s no more,
And even stars have wept.
For in the shadows’ ebon fold,
Lies mystery untold,
A tale of love and loss so old,
It chills the heart so bold.
Poe’s raven might have known them well,
These shades that twist and twine,
For in their depths, our fears do dwell,
In the absence of the divine.
So heed the shadows’ silent call,
As they rise and as they fall,
For in their dance, you’ll find enthralled,
The night’s eternal thrall.