Darkness fades to shapes of shades amongst the dazzling, dancing faeries light
An invisible horde, en masse, meandering towards the end of the longest night
Revenants are prevalent and akin to paradoxical moths, drawn to dying flames
Kindred spirits forever and now the nyctophiles, from the long lost old domains
December remembers and descends, through moonlit mist to the chill of drizzle
Ending with the ritual black-mass of the passed, the wraiths and the dire dismal
Called to gather, from dust and ashes and from ancient barrows of empty graves
Enthralled with rapture, in a cast of shimmering shadows, of the shortening days
Maudlin spectres await the churches solemn sunset knell, as the bells chime four
By the break of dawn, the languid gathered, will return to where they were before
Evanescing in the longest night, fading to the forgotten memory of a dying ember
Reshaping the wandering shades back to shadows, of a sombre dark December
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