The Time of Masks

I can sense it creeping closer
the time of Masks, the Hunt,
that desperate Ride to Autumn.

White lanterns are hung around the square,
the markets, the docks, the temples, that
iridescent flame that whispers there is hope.

I will light the sandstone streets;
oh Beasts of Outer Darkness
turn your eyes away from us.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s