PHANTOM CALLS

 

As night falls, a dark melody

Fills the air with a feeling so deep

It's the song of a dark rose

 Standing proud near a corner fence.

The song transforms the air to calm,

Bringing forth Dahlia, a withered pale woman.

She lies on a granite slab, still and serene,

 The song permeates her chill cells, pungent and dark.

Her cells overhaul false refluxes,

Eternal darkness taints her veins with lethal hues.

The dark rose rummages through the sealed window,

 Like a creeper, it probes in disguise.

A loud noise stirs the void, the call of a phantom,

 The deadbeat song reaches its peak,

 Reverberating and undermining her heart waves.

The roaming restless phantom roars,

Who will be the next cadaver to join its choir?

The dark rose slowly turns from grey to white,

Then blurred, and the source of the call slowly deranges.

And with the coming of the dawn,

The sun creeps in, infusing her vitals with life anew.

 A dark rose is reborn, its music a distant blur,

 May Prana bring life to helpless cadavers once again!

A wish for a dark song always prevails.

 

*Prana, a Sanskrit word meaning breath, is considered a life-giving force.