blackness, a shadow.

wings dark as night,

with a disposition to match

his fear of the light.

the shadow's face twists,

as midnight comes to pass

his followers lay in wait, searching

for bringers of light to harass

the night echoes on,

moon coating in shadow

mirroring the wraith's heart,

and his own urge to go.

go where? they all ask,

as their confusion arises

but perhaps even he, the usher of doom

has no plans when left to his own vices