with foggy rise of April morn,
a shore of infinite expanse unfurled, like as a scroll,
I now observed my host departed from the Styxian beach,
unsteady sands my pathway made – and I the plagued pilgrim –
around the Eidolon survived, I drifted further ‘thin,
with foggy fall of April eve,
the dim mist was awaking,
thru window light came golden born
while morning-birds res’rect and sing.
the cold enshrouded me and crept
more quietly to my still heart
where darker demons hid and dwelt
amidst a shadow, light can’t part.
haze of crimson bled o’er my eyes
casting phantoms in my ailed sight;
an illusion built on mortal lies
of hooded horror and endless night.
“remnant of a former life,” I spoke,
yet my thoughts failed, I never woke.
with mist of salt and crash of waves before my mind’s hid eye;
from bed I rose to stand amidst the sands and salt-wind’s pull,
deep breath inhaled to stir the soul and release my soft sigh
into the brightness of the morn’s glorious, righteous light.
but beside me stood, with darkened dread, the shad’wy horror
with shaded face, limbs wreathed in shadow, and aura in blight.
his weathered sleeve rose with phantom hand – fears within outpour
while his presence I must endure – and sight blurred red again.
it was as if the mystic winds had raised from spoken rote
and formed a cyclone heated with flames that scalded my skin.
I saw the red haze part for Charon to guide his foul boat
to landing of wood that stretched through the water like fingers.
like the wind fades away though the memory still lingers.
trembling, I felt, hands at my side while I silent beseech
Heavens above, from this Sheol below the sunless skies,
with myriad prayers, rotes, mantras of faith, and empty vows.
stars looked down from their fevered sky like tiny, distant eyes;
hate-filled gaze behind the bloodied veil of fog, eternal scowls.
to the dock where my ferryman awaited my presence
with placid silence and a visage more pleasant than grim.
upon meeting his skeletal hand came, with beggar’s sense,
to take earnéd toll for deliverance of my mourned soul.
I observed a skull, half hewn, upon a dock’s firm support –
an ominous sight – within was old coins to pay the toll,
I didn’t argue, I paid, boarded and soon we left port.
and the night above grew dimmer and faded into void,
the pupil of black dilates as the mortal’s evil sin.
the mirr’ring waters I sought though my face it did avoid,
my reflection was washed away as the soulless vampire’s
for my fate was much like theirs, doomed to endless ever-night.
burning eyes of crimson light gazed from my skull like bonfires,
within dubious waters glowed the shimmer of the light;
there I peered deeper to see outline of an elder face
wreathed in shadow and with the pallor of ancient marble,
hair was like the gray storm-clouds with a mystic lace
tied within, as if to hold still ‘gainst the water’s garble.
loss of senses as I plunged into the wine-dark waters,
cool forgetfulness of Styx and the welcome of nothing,
then I saw a light of moon and all that truly matters
bloom before my eyes as I experienced the hung’ring.
the dim fog now awaking,
thru the mind understanding cleave
to leave me dead and withering.
the cold enshrouded me and crept
more quietly to my still heart,
where darker demons hid and dwelt
and I among them shan’t depart.
I saw my master standing o’er
and I smiled thru my brief coughing,
his words, so soft, I heard inquire,
“How feel you so quick recov’ring?”
I mused and gathered my thoughts well,
“I feel,” a pausing here, “like hell.”