Monuments to the Dead – When Darkness Falls

Monuments to the dead

monuments to the dead


Monuments to the Dead

As the hour grows late

The silence of solitude


By the haunting creak

That telltale squeak,

Of an ancient gate

Once opened

But now

Swinging closed

By an unseen hand

Imposing and towering

Tipped with terror


Sharpened spears

Of cold shuddering iron

Slowly closing in

As darkness falls

The night does call

Again and again

To trap the dead within

Waiting silently

The grey void

Flourishing between

Light and night

Dusk begins

Its silent cleanse

Chasing things


Some remain

But soon to go away


By splinters of sunlight,


With tendrils of dark

Slithering in the spaces

Shaded refuge

Hiding spaces

The courtyard filling

With long shadows

The void tipping

Darkness winning

Grey becomes black

Stone corners

Filling with emptiness

With sadness

And despair

Forgotten dreams



With that yet unseen

Until the finality

The last piercing glare


Until the ‘morrow

Banished over the horizon

And then silence

Ushers in the nighttime

An unsettling gloom

Cold and clammy

Pallbearer of the night

Rolling clouds

Acrid winds


Uneasiness above

The changing of the guard,

And the landscape

Bending grass


As darkened sickles

Slicing indiscriminately

Cutting through the night

Mist on the walkways

To the left and to the right


Things hidden beneath

While high above

Branches extending

Stout trees bending

Angry claws

Of leafless trees


Without seeing


Tearing at the silence

Before retreating


But never stopping

Echoes of hardened ground,

Every direction

And all around

Moonlight soaked granite

Windswept marble

Crumbling stone

While below,

The dead wait

For the summoners,

The mystics,


Spirit guides

And tongue-speakers


But forever present

On the surface,

Monuments to the dead

With different

Dates and words

Timeless memories

Etched in infamy

For everyone

…or no one at all

Additional Reading

What’s the Price to Buy Your Soul?

The Summoning


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