Descending Soul

thither it lurked,

no less than the hours of four,
had he waited and could wait no more,
waited for the hour nigh had he,
perhaps a chance that he might see,

movement in the dimness,

alone, alone he had endured,
the darkened hour to which hed been lured,
by sense of duty and curiosity,
perhaps a chance that he might see,

a silhouette forming,

with stock of gun and powder horn,
his blade of steel its sheath well worn,
brandy keeping warm his soul,
his fear and fantasy is one in whole,

closer now it comes,

boots from finest ermine trimmed,
with fancy spectacles framed and gold rimmed,
to retrieve the life that it stole,
his fear and fantasy is one in whole,

and closer still,

its eyes now the light reflect,
and his vision dappled with spots tis flecked,
his gun set high to his shoulder,
where now his emotions stir and smoulder,

the beast faces him,

hollow thud and empty click,
wet powder from dew also sops the wick,
steel as cold his nerve is colder,
where now his emotions stir and smoulder,

the beast rears,

animal or demon rage,
no quarter given on this stage,
take back thy love that was theft,
and all alone be thou bereft,

attacks he now,

rage ensues from an evil ilk
veins at slashed like scissors to silk
cold steel drawn now in twain he cleft,
and all alone be thou bereft,

the beast within,

like crimson ribbons on the breeze,
doth trickle slow his hearts solemn ease,
and with weary stride he can reclaim,
his past, his future, his faith in same,

lies it dead?

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