Sit still beneath the full moon’s stare,
in heart of woods where few souls dare
to pause in quiet, rest and listen
to hear the babbling brook, that glistens
eerily on all hallows night,
by falling shadows and dancing light,
for sighs that come in moans and stirs,
twixt shadowed breeze and moonlight’s blur.
Sit still beside the brook and path,
and into depths of lost souls hath
ye found the opened door to death,
left ajar by those who’ve left
to join a chorus of frightful moans,
on hallows eve, they stir and roam,
to free the burden of their demise,
expose their deathly secrets, rise
from grave and headstone broken,
to seek these woods and brook’s words spoken,
that harken all lost souls to come,
release their painful burden, some.
So if thee listen close and still,
thou’ll hear the souls speak to the will
of babbling brook and forest’s moon,
bring forth their image to float and swoon
upon the forest trail,
curse the stream, haunt and wail.
Yet if the truth be strong in thee,
sit by brook and path to see…
Yet if thou heart is black with lies,
upon this path, by brook, might die!
For horror’s strong deep current runs,
where darkness kept, where souls are summed.
So hold thy truth in hand, and fast,
that thou be strong when midnight cast.
And if ye spirit strong and sure,
ye might just hear the closing door,
that creaks and moans at one a.m.,
there seal the lost souls in again!
So be careful, for once the door is closed,
if lies be thine, or truths untold,
that this door in closing might ye catch,
and behind, with souls lost, shall ye be latched!
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