The Beast raises his shaggy haired arms with muscles twitching and sweat sliding

Between his fingers twines a snake with eyes like sapphires and teeth like diamonds

And pearls of venom dribble from tips of fangs and the hiss escapes like sibilant whispers

Of black words and black thoughts and black deeds with shadowed wings and sharpness

Like knives of iron and quick slick slices and cold plumes of crystal breath rushing

With force of gale and gust and grabbing hands snatching and snarling and scratching

Skeletal branches against the giant Moon’s light with bats alight and eyes glowing

In the pitch black undergrowth with clicks and snicks and snaps and crackles and cackles

Of stooped women in ragged black clothes with gnarled hands and wise gazes that fix

Upon your face they delve and dive into your life and do not allow lies and liars

Betwixt the veil and the shadow and the land you live on and in and over and under

Ground yourself in the old and the deep and the cruel and the kind and the wheel

That continues on even after death after misery after tragedy after loss and tread softly

As the Moon slides down below the tree line and you are left with nothing but the warmth of your heart and the burning knowledge in your head.