I Look Down

From my window
I look down, look down
At the iniquitous world spread out below me.
I look down, look down
I see the curst world, but it doesn’t see me.

From my room
I look down, look down
At the caliginous night steeped in midnight tea.
I look down, look down
I see the leaden darkness, but it doesn’t see me.

From my prison
I look down, look down
At a haunting of ghosts, ghouls, and monstrous afreets.
I look down, look down
I see all things vile and evil . . . and pray they don’t see me.

Nightland

I walk the bone-chilling Nightland,
At peace within the lonesome shroud of black.
The icy glimmer of starlight caresses my upturned face,
A lover’s touch…with a sigh, my lips go slack.

I live in the sacred spaces…shadows of the dark
Where only Mistress Moon is a welcome light.
But when Fiery Dawn steals the pure leaden sky,
My fearful soul takes flight.

Off like a shooting star,
Hurtling into the empty void of space.
Away, away I flee from the purity of day,
I cannot let sunlight touch my evil face.

Blackbirds

Have you ever wondered about the lyrics of a song–the  story behind the words? I often do, trying to piece together what is told and what is left unsaid/unsung.

While browsing through Amazon’s Prime Music (I get this service as a part of my Amazon Prime Account) a few days ago, I stumbled upon an album–are they still called that?–titled: Blackbirds, by Gretchen Peters. I had never heard of this artist, let alone the song, but the cover looked intriguing, so I gave a listen to the title track.

The opening lines–“Blackbirds came at dusk and they roosted in the cane…caused such a ruckus that it shook my windowpane. And I’m covered up in dirt and I stink of kerosene, and no matter what I do, I can’t get clean.”–reached out and grabbed me by the throat, demanding my complete attention, until upon ending, I was released from its death-grip.
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