The Crawling Shadow by Harris Coverley

The Crawling Shadow
Harris Coverley

Like a black wind
Low and slow
The negative to all positives
Going along the ground
Darkening all it touches
Leaving an eternal stain of malice
              A desert of meaning
              Neither truth nor lies, but mere emptiness
Beams collected from a dead and distant sun
Rolling on and on and on
In a cephalopodic stumble
Searching for nothing
But perhaps a means to end
              What little existence it has

One would pity it if not
For the fact it eats pity
              Like a vulture eats a corpse’s eyes

Once it comes
You have to leave
Or else it will take everything
Even strip the desire from your very bones
And have you a wreck
              A shadow’s shadow
              That no light could ever hope to touch

* * *

Now pour the wine
And close the door
We have time yet before dawn…


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