Darklings

By Cliff Lake

 

Darklings

 

Sheltering in lengthening shadow,

A slither and crawl and slink is made to arrive,

The darklings linger,

And wait for their appointed turn.

Moments they have only,

Time snatched from the spans,

A trouble they bring to the unwary,

To the unguarded,

To the unaware.

Frights they have in abundance:

Whispers from far places,

Or the corner of a room,

Or the pillow beneath the head.

They may twist shadows reaching,

Lengthened claws in the dark,

While cackles circle the mind,

Or bone-scrapes sing discordant.

Vagrant mists may arise,

Animate and translucent,

Seeking entry with cold tendril damp,

Or gyrating in mad seduction.

Unmelodies may strain in dissonance,

Deranged themes to unwind the wit,

Laying bare dreads thought forgotten.

All these the darklings hold to wield,

Horrors concocted in planes unthinkable,

Reaches out of sync with time or reason.

They have but a little while,

Therefore their dires are potent,

Brewed in chambers composed of dismay,

Dejectment,

Desire,

And disaster.

These are the darklings,

And their hour approaches.

October is arrived.

 

Cliff Lake 10/3/2024

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

Location: Wichita, KS, USA

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