A Bright And Hallow Night

On the night of Hallows eve:
the dark, yet glimmering starry night
offers me the gift of the most demonic sights.
Attracted, I set out to stroll for
a time of lurid reprieve.

With an exit of my chamber door,
the fruits of Fall show me
the types of morbid lore
that the night has in store.
The bright and burning arts kindle a flame within me!

As I walk through the dark,
each creature in sight
animates with a sort of pent up energy
contingent with their wicked and warm personality.
Us will'o wisps in flesh
shall be the light
we use to show and confess
our macabre larks.

As I wander through the gloom and gray
of a graveyard full of corpses with words to say.
I find another eerie glow
which the cute, yet ominous pointing nose
of the black cat near me points to show.
Many denizens within the dire wood
dig their graves amongst the soot
of the flashing fire
they dance in as they conspire.
With their own words they continue the tale
of the many stars that burned out from a turbulent gale.

I enter to the festive
yet wretched lot.
I flail my arms and expose my putrid rot.
I fit in as we free ourselves of the
exhausting
unthinking
mortal coil.
The cold unfeeling environs with which we toil
briefly perish as a waning thought
descriptive
yet disjointed
from the flames tonight.

As the fires die down
and we enter our holes.
The work which we're renowned
for longs to impose
its will upon our souls
once again
revived
as the tinder we use to light the fire.
Our ire, our love,
our deep desire
shall once again burn bright
next Hallowed night.