Dark: A Musing

more often it's our imagination..we hope!A friend once told me, "It's not the dark I'm afraid of; it's what's in the dark!".

Dark: A Musing

Bleak and moonless is the night,

Heartless..cold..

Never differential..

Always exponential in its dark imaginings.

It is what we hope,

Is it not?

When we walk the dark and lonely road..

The only light in this forsaken path is the wisp of memory of feet that have been here before and remember each step..

steps...which we try to shush by stepping lightly as in your ears you hear a baneful wail..of..

What?

Tis the thing that ought not rise,

Imagination is not fit for regurgitation..

Not now! When every little thing,

every little whisper and sound reminds you of that story round..

grandpa's feet..when you were but a babe..

In the middle of nowhere,

In the darkest night..is when the tales that you deemed just stories, take new meaning...and you hear a chuckle in your heart..

Quick you turn I know there was something to my left walk faster..Yes you feel the rise of bile from the fright..

Surely they were just old man's musings..

Just amusings..for a doddering old fool at least that is what you tell yourself sooner or later that should strengthen your heart and slow the beating to a normal walking pace..

To your left you feel more than see a darkest shadow though you know it but your ill-borne thinking shake your head, forget the dread sneaking up your spine and hope to God all is fine!

!a small snick and you quicken pace while the shadow stays with you.

Yet the darkness seems to grow, spreads round you as you go and your feet remember you stepped here not much more than just one hour ago..

while the chuckle grows much louder...

surreal poetry
How does it work?
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