E N T I T Y

Branch-less trees sway in dead gales

on the pursed lips of fanged cliffs.

Conscious yet breathless sentinels

guarding the dark trails of lead veils and red glyphs.

Scrying the sky to summon gravity deficient entities, the trees defiantly

supply local covens with rhythmically omniscient identities.

Bewitching ravens to mingle with white bats disguised as midsummer

doves within the mossy canopies of decaying vegetation,

the mages croon odes to hellhounds with headless cats,

exorcised in saucy black vinegar to feed their dark meditation.

Walking in the strides of shadow, silhouettes smolder with tincture.

Once you realize that your soul must not be made for sale,

then and only then will you be ready to hire a calligrapher

to assist you in drafting a blood-contracted signature.