All Hallows

All Hallows


A cowl over the moon
makes trickery of the white wisp shadows,
chasing to Kingdom Come
the coward in the street.
Clinging to the fog, an eerie despair,
borne of desolation,
works deeds of apparition
on unclaimed souls. 
In the minds of maverick travelers
‘tis a fen ne’er to be forgotten.
For what magic deeds be done- remain,
not to be undone.
The clock strikes twelve
but once in a thousand moons
and then grows ominously quiet
for many moons to come. 
If by chance , by some stroke of evil luck,
you happen upon this warlock bog,
grab thee demons by the chains
and shake their rotting corpses
‘til dust be their name
and walk without shame
through this swamp with no name.