the dog spirit hovering over the dimlit bridge
just before good end town
there in the shrubs something slithered
whether it was the worst part of me
could only be known by the grin on the surface of the water
spread wide yet overpowering
between great humid hungry shrubs
all seduced by the moolight and drizzle
was it the witch in my arms
the power of the night's very shade
the double darkness multiplying itself in celebration
of a gone sun
the dog spirit over the small river
a young couple glare from the distance
trying to make out my shape in the distance
The spirit hit the lines between light and dark
blessing the surrounding woods
the unknown lore
so many pretenders brag to have understood
Yet the lost dog's spirit evades them
the army of souls hide in the whistle
awaiting emancipation
instead of being forced to toil on the tunnel
that connects the afterlife with this one right here...
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