Sidles over,
Swinging low
Sings its halting notes of
Graceless tension
Taut strings twanging
Sharp. A warning
Harken! now to doom
Your peril lurking
In every shadow:
Monster
Every sickness:
A demon that shouts the name of Healing
And seeks it’s own blind end

Third eying the door

The glimmer of another crystal

You participate in that archaic

Self-preservation system

Perhaps this time your skin will lift

This time you feel the shift

And it’s true

That rue will rule you

But it’s not a real end yet

Your sense of ruin

Is a tune you’re tired now of whistling

Kite-strings hissing

In that pre-storm hum

Then it’s done.

Not running, sailing

Lighting strikes to claim you

He always told you

Never need to fear

Now you feel it,

Air, cloud, scorched paper

The sound only your ears can hear

That song you ring with when all is clear

When terror turns it’s tail

And slinks away.

Audio version