The Shadow Comes

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The Shadow comes
With icy breath
With heavy touch
With fetid stench
And there it sits
Beside his bed
Those harrowed eyes
Those words of dread
And though the dawn
Comes bright and clear
He sees it not
Nor does he hear
Around him shifts
That waking world
The beating heart
Those lives unfurled
Yet there he is
And there he stays
By Shadow’s word
All is unmade
And all he does
Is turned to dust
And all that is
He cannot touch
And all that was
It mars with lies
And all that comes
Is lost from sight
This whispered death
It dogs his steps
And who can guess
How many left
To move would be
A vagrant lie
To stay is all
He can contrive
But perhaps on turning
Of the moon
Or waking sun
Or flower’s bloom
Perhaps the Shadow
Will pass away
And perhaps the light
Will touch his face
Perhaps the time
Shall come again
When all is bright
And all begins
But now the Shadow
Sits by his bed
And whispers things
Better left unsaid
So there he is
And there he stays
And still he will
In coming days
While Shadow’s reign
Is long and true
And all he does
It will undo
The Shadow comes
With icy breath
With heavy touch
With fetid stench
And there it sits
Beside his bed
It ever whispers
Such words of dread

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