Shadowy Spot

Declared mid-night, night’s ticking arm,

For a Vampire to start his race

Along with a Moon whom surfing skies has exhausted,

Yet still grabbing an ancient Charm;

Believed it was Stolen from a Goddess’s face

To a Tomb that Legends describe as haunted,

“Circe Invidiosa” painting by J.W. Waterhouse

For Stars have burnt over their immortal Incense,

And for a fond lover of darkness to spread wings

Along with the same Moon over a path of shadows.

Tracking Stars to a spot dyed in innocence,

For no Man ever has spoiled its springs.

Rang the echo of her beats the furthest hollows,

Till got ceased by a striking scene;

Not a single trace of her own shadow was there.

Have Nature’s Mirrors forgotten having it drawn!

Or simply blind Brushes, not even its shade  had seen!

Shivered the Spirit, and set a search of Sherlock Holme’s care,

To the deepest hollows and darkest corners:
inspecting eyes were thrown

Yet detected no clue through the crowded nothingness.

No more Oak’s towering trunks stretch arms to the sky

Nothing’s quite the same as if senses have lost sense

Beauty hand in hand with peace turned in to wilderness;

No more Sweet williams, woods’ old breeze, glorify

Nothing happily fluttered as it did once

Was it a spot; some Aliens chose to conquer!

Was it a spot; some Wizards played across Black Magic!

Was it a spot; some Ghosts in the woods had cleft!

Was it a spot; some Witches blew vanishing curses over!

Or simply my Melancholy was turning out tragic!

But what about my Shadow! never heard before of Shadows Theft…

                                                                                                            

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