Consider the night

What stirs me from the dark tonight?
Some phantom, perhaps
Or a hunger gnawing on my spine

My eyes long for rest
As I stare into the hearth-fire of my ancestors
My mind registers only the rythmic flickering

But it's my ears that listen... For It
It that will be there when the flame dies
It that will be there when eyes close

It that no longer leaves claw marks on this sterile ground
Yet still hunts at night
Demanding my ears to listen to the unnatural silence

Waiting, waiting yet no longer caring 
for that one 
twig 
to 
snap


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