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By Tony DeLorger © 2012
By candle I invaded halls
where shadows cringed and statues tall,
loomed above my weary frame,
my body chilled, my mind aflame.
That gnarled wood floor beneath my feet,
with mournful cry each step defeat,
my brave resolve and crumbling courage,
I question why, my end disparage.
While curtains long in breathless breeze,
of movement wrong in still appease,
my racing mind, my heart a thud,
presence felt unearthly grudge.
And still my candle flickered on,
each step the pain of impending wrong,
doorways creak and cold air rush,
my spine a seizing, face all flushed.
When before me stood a ghostly sight,
a spectre wan in glowing light,
its hand outstretched, its face all grim,
what could it want this earthly sin.
One step back I gasped for air,
my legs now clenched, my soul now bare,
rooted to the spot I quaked,
while this floating wisp entreated, made.
My confusion abated to manic fear,
and soundless cries with dry cold tears,
inflicting terror from head to toe,
just staring at this transparent foe.
Carved wooden birds on doors aloft,
gazed down with eyes so yellow mocked,
and shadows long and creeping found,
like bars of steel as me surround.
And wings of creatures stirred to life,
in darkness teeth all bared for strife,
and surging blood and heartless gripe,
inflicting pain and fear tonight.
Oh spirit I pleaded, please leave me be,
I am but blood and bone and weak,
my heart is true for living plight,
not deathly sins in darkened light.
I beg you for my retched life,
I beseech your pardon my intrusion trite,
my stupid game and fearless jest,
now rattles my cage and fails me best.
Have mercy on a believing soul,
unto my knees I will console,
with every breath I'll undertake,
your commands my will, my life not take.
The spirit squirmed, its face all queer,
no human words or thoughts appear,
and when it spoke, my heart did stop,
my thoughts a whirl, a spinning top.
You walk my halls, and stir the dust,
on living past and mock my trust,
and then you talk and talk some more,
please leave me now my ears are sore.
And with that word, I turned on heel,
and creaking boards untouched appeal,
so swiftly did I leave that place,
the shadows still refrained from chase.
And I in truth have ceased to walk,
in darkness, fear that it may talk,
and me in silence to never break,
my night lamp on, through nightly ache.