Falling

Twilight arrived as usual that night.
John strolled through the field
And found the path he used to tread
Through the Gloomy Raven Forest
When he was but a boy.

He walked and walked
As the moon rose above the trees.
Oh, how he loved to walk at night
With nothing but moonbeams
Guiding him among the living trees
And deadfall branches knocked interrupted
Across his path his well-known path
Reminding him of the spring-time tempest
That raced through the land
Leaving mass destruction in its wake.

With nary a sound
But the haunting hoots of
Barred owls
And the jarring screech of the
Whip-poor-will.

A hideous sound
Echoed through the forest
A sound he’d never heard before
A sound that no one ever spoke of.

Falling, falling, falling
Into the earth
Cloaked inside
The soggy blackened walls
Where even moonlight couldn’t reach
Waiting for the crack of the final touch down
That would end his swift descent…

Falling, falling, falling
Into the great abyss
Never to be seen again.