Epiphany of the dream

A dense fog entered the rim
Of the old blue hill
As I watch the dark hue sky gleam
There the moonlight shines upon
The dead, forever sleeping
And the raven, still is sitting
On a tree
It was long gone, abandoned
The grass, stiffened as it withers
On the day, that every living thing
Passed away,
into the dream.
Wondering, I stepped closer
to the dark,
The Abyssian nocturnality
Of the wicked scene
And drenched the soul to be impaled
By the tendrils
Of the demon

But aren't we our own
Demons?

Thought, surpassed the misty fog
That turned the haunting
My haunting
To liking

And the demon,
died
within

-Franics