We cut the night air with wings of black,
we cut the life strings at twilight’s blessing.
My brethren and I see far and wide,
for we are many.
There is no escape,
no hole can hide you,
mask a spirit
We bring you home to purgatory to sit and
roost in a black shed of despair,
to dwell upon a life where dark leanings
led you to dissolution of a soul that
sought heights they were never meant to fly.
So contemplate, ponder,
wander this dim world between
darkness and light,
and perhaps we shall
By Philip Wardlow