Opus 1812

Phillip A. Ellis

Shadows gather, closer come
   while the cold are dumb, alone
   in their nights and shadows rain
where the reign of day's unknown

save as rumours, nothing more:
   rising out of mor and earth
   with the setting of the sun,
night's begun, and the dark's birth

over lands and over seas,
   eager to seize, eager take
   till all's rime-encumbered, cold
as is heartless gold and hate.

Shadow gathers, shadow hates,
   convocations form and flow
   whispering of runes of night
with no light to break shadows.

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