by Z. M. Wilmot
What Walks Under Moonlight
The darkness of hills at the heart of midnight
Illumined only by fading lantern’s light
As sounds fill the darkness of the mounds and the trees
While half-formed nightmares did never surcease
The Elder in vain sought a path to his haven
Ignoring his best the cry of the raven
His footfalls unsure and his eyes never resting
As they roved to and fro at the shadows divesting
At the edge of dark vision and the border of fright
And under the sway of catalytic moonlight
The monsters of mind can take shape and form
And rise from the ether realm of ichor and worm
The nightmares of sleep can come out in the night
And when one is alone bring their faces to light
And under the blighted gaze of the moon
The wavering dreams oft emerge far too soon
The pebble-strewn path weaves 'tween dark mounds of earth
The moon’s tricks of light giving strange monsters birth
From behind the black wall of the gloomiest hill
A horror comes forth from degenerate will
The primordial ooze that flows onto the ground
From the eyes and the mouth on the head of the hound
Glows under the ethereal light of the moon
As it stands and refuses the Elder's last boon