All Hallows Eve

Black is the soul that sometimes rides
behind the clouds, on ill raised tides,
When daylight from the sky does leave
to bring the dark All Hallows Eve.
The dead all rise from ‘neath the sod
to answer him, at his slow nod.
They walk the streets of nearby towns,
the forests deep, deserted downs.
No dwelling safe, no gaze unseen,
all buildings checked, and all between.
From forests far, from grievous fear
he frees the wolves, we hear them near.
The raven cries, the crow does call,
the black ones fly o’er walls so tall.
His hate is strong, this nameless one
who rules the world ‘til night is done.
With gleeful cause, it’s fear he’s leaving,
unknown terror starts our grieving.
When light at last drives him away,
when sun regains it’s lawful sway,
We peek out once, and then once more,
to see what ill has gone before.
If we’ve survived this night so drear,
we’ll quake again, another year.
For black the soul that sometimes rides
behind the clouds, on ill raised tides.