~ a poem about the omens following us all
In dreaming of nightmares,
Posit them instead of as reveries — as tails
Imagine every terrible night’s vision a shadow in life’s prayers
An omen borne from your morning survival, bleeding and baying along your trails
Each of these omens is a hunter-turned-scavenger, a beast cooled
And they, these roaming killers, are hungry
Displaced from the jungles where they formerly ruled
Relegated to a damned followership, in their new country
You are their subject, birthed upon your transient nightly escapade
Deemed to stalk your every step, an ender’s courtship
They do not follow you out of fealty, maws in a dissuade
These dark, beastly omens are waiting for a slip
And even though your light could dispel their shadow
Hunger overrules their reason
Their essence is already on borrow
And you are never, ever out of season.
