The contrasts of the Portent

 The way the solid darkness cackles
A hooded figure of some ancient creature 
leaning into the psyche 

There he stands his failures paint him plainly
He pleads with God for the present, tries to conciliate the past
Alas neither soothe his abrasive thought perception
The dread as malevolent flute calls and lifts his ghost

The cackling comes into rumble like live motor
Humming and breaking the empty quiet of a still night
The solid darkness slit like a throat leaking onto the man

A hooded figure of some ancient creature responds
Pulling the man up by his ghost
Throttling his last decency

Taking the bloodthirsty from his head
and embedding it further into his heart
As he comes back down to earth he is the puppet

His movements echoed from some where unreachable
Somewhere solid darkness bleeds in silence 

The redness of this ancient creature's eyes
appear in his own
The strings are tightened fate is sealed

The man finds his own controllables
Puts them to work on a blind blind world
Heeds the cackle from deep dark

Turns back to the red eyes that meet his
He takes the dagger of all his torment
Cuts the ropes and stabs the creature to death

The beast stirrs still writhing in the solid black
Once a master now dying demon
He breathes in it's last life force

And pushes his will on a world completely blind
In a world aimless and hypnotic
where light is confused with darkness