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harrowing-tide

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Darkness Sings in the Witching hour,

As spectres writhe in Sublime Masquerade,

Witless watching goes unnoticed

While worries and doubt march in Parade;

Shadows spiraling in the ebon void,

Calamity slurking into the Lush Unknown,

Colours fading into blankness

As Daytide waits, muted and prone;

Delicate Splendour reaches in irony

As all that is stale encroaches and bides;

Mists of Memory murmuring mundanely,

As Silence floods in,

A Most Harrowing Tide.

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original Photography:   ‘Ring of Brodgar in the Mist’ by Dominique Brand