The Ghosts of the Past

The Ghosts of the Past,

By Adam Kane

The stars of night, and rays of moonlight,
beam to bear me on,
from a past bleak to a future bright.
For my futile soul seeks reprieve,
that from chasm grey I may leave,
and in valley green I might greive.

Yet as I trudge upon the darkened path,
a sudden sound stirs from afar.
A frenzied cry and curdling laugh,
sunders stillness and shadow,
with cruel and cold intent,
to bear me to my barrow.

The thud of hoof crashes upon the cobbles,
trouncing turf and tinder 'neath their tread,
while the rider's sabres, bright and bare, are by cold vengence led.

Onward they canter,
crushing the sprites of the present, and kernels of the future.
Their demonic mounts are bared,
while their wild eyes glare,
putting me to flight without fight.

I fled in panic through the glen,
as it echoed with the roars of victorious men,
reminding the world of the moment when,
the ghosts of the past had won again.