Welcome to the Gloomy Hollows
of Spookinite ValleyEst. Sept. 2012
Eye of the Storm
Written by Benjamin Fouché
The midnight waves crash on the rocks.
Burning eyes—there looms the black fox.
Ruined columns still reigning tall,
Soon shall come the hurricane’s fall.
The ghostly flute does serenade,
To things of which I am afraid.
A wall blacker than night rises;
Shrouding the stars—it surprises.
Waters roll upon the wet sand;
The restless air does reprimand.
Soon the tempest shall raise the sea,
Shuddering about each palm tree.
Lightning arcs do spread quite afar,
Forewarning the dull lands they char.
Watching the ocean splash and churn,
I peer much deeper and discern.
The swirling, black clouds shall consume,
Opening the watery tomb.
Phantoms linger by the pillars;
Grim portents each one delivers.
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