From Days Ago

Friends of old, from days ago,

appear again outside our door

while shadows warn of threat drawn nigh

for all to heed their very life.

Where still the winds then thicks the fog,

a mullered anger wields its maul

from depths of wretched malcontent

its need to savage, tear, torment

the souls of those, who nair it knows,

yet feasts upon in search of gold,

as from its hidden halls it speaks

to valleys deep and mountain peaks,

where lies in wait both day and night

those prepared to wake the light

where which the witch it witches true

and pure the light from which construe

the spirits of the innocent

to wield the swords from heaven sent,

the violent vein of wrath to end

the violent reign of wrath.

Jade Jaspers Journal