Shadow Of Our Darkest Fears

Shadow Of Our Darkest Fears
© Surazeus
2023 11 04

Cry of the moon-eyed raven at midnight 
conceals my secret home in Spider Wood 
where nameless clowns on television screen 
perform tragic tale of the princess bride 
who searches for ghost of the man she loves 
who wanders voiceless on the misty moors. 

We give each other treasure we love most 
to prove we know the secret way back home, 
but we stand empty by the river shore, 
unable to accept surprise of death, 
as if the turtle crawling toward the sea 
can show us where our broken hearts are hid. 

The man who wants to steal her lonely heart 
scatters pieces of her puzzle on the ground 
in vain attempt to trick her with sly ploy, 
but she will never accept his fake love 
for he wants her to prove his name is blessed 
so she must hide faceless in Spider Wood. 

When gang of hungry men with gleaming swords 
hunt her soul in shadows of Spider Wood, 
she leaps into the sky on glowing wings 
and soars beyond vain grasping of his hands 
so he can only see mask of her face 
that shines with grace in mirror of the moon. 

We channel shadow of our darkest fears 
through clever metaphors of aching hope, 
projecting passions we want to deny 
in characters who perform roles we write 
with bloody ink that flows from wounded heart 
that misdirects attention from our pain. 

The raven witch who wanders Spider Wood, 
with basket of serpent eggs on her arm, 
must focus attention of her sad heart 
on gathering treasures of nutritious truth 
from ancient trees writhing in murky swamp 
so painful sorrow of his loss may fade. 

Standing knee-deep in moon-cold river flow 
that streams from mountain cave of singing skulls, 
the raven witch gazes in sparkling eyes 
of Death whose face smiles in trunk of the oak 
so she can understand spell of his words 
that guides her journey into Spider Wood. 

Stripping off elegant gown of the court, 
the raven witch dances in Spider Wood 
with wild abandon of the aching soul 
who loses everything to greed of fate 
which stirs strange primal spark of fantasy 
that he appears in swirling moon-gold mist.