He walks in Darkness

He walks in darkness.

Beneath his feet, not a sound,

No rustle as his cloak

sweeps the icy ground.

He walks in darkness

It is no shield to him

For none but the moon

Dare lay eyes on this form

Gliding through the forest

In the dead of the night

No different than mere mortals

In the harmless light

For it is with the setting of the sun

That life leaves his veins

And he hungers to feed

In attempt to be whole again.

It is a half life, this being

Has not a shred of repent

When hunger is sated, deed is done

He knows he will never be rid

Of stains that mar his own

Of red that flows, to burgundy deep

Promises to revive him, it does keep.

Too long has he been dead this way

For life is meaningless to him

Yet in the time between the fading sun

And the rise of the chariots each day

A fire burns within his body

Longing to decay, in vain.

For he walks in darkness

And what little shall it show

He watches and waits, in shadows

Sreedevi