Moonlight’s fingers softly touched the ebony silken tresses
Of the ivory figure that tarried in the dark penumbras of wooden skeletons.
Static onyx curlicues flanked the aisle she trod.
An unmolested static stream she saw leading yonder:
An inky ribbon, a looking glass for the stars.
From the chassis of the blackthorn, a raven gazed
At the bipedal moonstone whose soft footfalls punctuated the silence of his realm.
Still air suddenly resonated with the siren of the Bird of Minerva,
As a sable equine straddled by his dreaded Master approached.
A mirage in no man’s land, one would think,
But He is as formless as he is real.
The anthropomorphic brother of Sleep took the albescent palm of his newest trophy
Who mounted his caliginous mount
That plied the route of the darkling journey into the gorge of eviternal darkness.
She fell asleep in the land of the waking to wake in the land of Perpetual Sleep.