The thing I hunt,
it lurks in every shadow
that ever consumed a human soul:
In crevices and pits and fens
it hides, and snarls softly–
knows I’m here…
I hear it breathing, very near,

and I am ready–
must be ready for it
–when it rages up
and out from pit and fen–
to cast my spear, my spell–
I mean to conquer and compel!

Even now, upon
the mountains’ cutting edge
the glowing moon, it sets a-light
and limns the highest peaks–
It pales the night,
obscures the blessed stars,
this first jagged crescent blade
of cold moonlight rising…

Great Gods, I feel it near!
It stands beside me in the night!
I cannot sort its cursed breath from mine…!
Ah Gods! I must be strong,
I must prevail…!

The moon escapes the broken horizon,
rises full
and brilliant in the sky…

My enemy likewise reaches up,
it chokes my cry–!
It rises from the shadows and the fens
Of my deepest inner soul…

And howls in ecstasy
and celebrates the darkness
and the rising of the moon…!

by CL Redding revised 10/2022

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