Wicked blows the thickening wind
screaming souls chapped and cracking
another spirit lost in sin
no more deception lacking.

A bitter glance cuts through the night
an ember hardly dancing
another life flickers from sight
the light so strong, entrancing.

Then suddenly, without a word
the demons stop their singing
and from the hills their comes a sound
a thousand voices ringing.

"She comes, she comes", the cry they raise
the night hawk stops it's preying
the goths from darkest haunts do crawl
ask blackest night starts greying.

The sounds of hooves, of wings, of souls
still steaming from their birthing
her demon satin soft on skin
the air fresh with unearthing.

So there she stands in light so bright
the evening creatures cringing
even though they know she comes in love
what destruction is she bringing?

Without a word she takes the young
the weak, the sick, the waning
and gathers them all in her mighty arms
their precious life force draining.

She drops the bodies to the ground
below the earth starts seething
swallowing them in with a mighty sound
from her mouth a gentle bleeding.

Satisfied she turns, with crimson lips
again begins the singing
she rises, departs from dance of night
violet veils the sunrise bringing.
(tac 4/7/97)