Friday 14 December 2012

Black Shroud

It's a black shroud that rises and falls
Fingers, faces, leave impressions on its surface
A nose, a gaping mouth,
A hand stretched to its limit
Believing it can be free

You can see them move
Vulgar, petrified tremors
Ripping through formless bodies
A smooth, dark, velvetty shroud
Terrifying in its beauty, its enormity

It's an entire world out there
It breathes and gasps with revolting violence
Throwing itself outwards
With the desperation of a fleeing army
Drawing itself in in a single breath

So enamoured are you at the sight
That you watch enthralled as it draws closer
That you stand rooted
In an inexplicable stupor
As it quietly feeds.

1 comment:

  1. there's nothing more exotic than black. the night with its oh so lovely moon. even in complete darkness.

    death, the darkest of the dark. pure black :)