The Coming of Night

The ticking clock and moments passing
What is gone, is gone for eternity
All hope begins slipping away
On silent tendrils of whispering darkness

Above, the death throes of the ball of fire
Ragged banners of crimson rage across the sky
Mottled colors stain the horizon
Wounded and dying, a requiem for the day

Hungry shadows poised to feed upon the living
Growing and dividing like sharpened blades
Darkness cutting across stone and field
Greedily devouring the last fragile threads of light

The coming of night, chilled air thickens with silence
Unseen fingers suffocating the landscape
Squeezing the last breath from the waking world
Until at last, the shroud descends

Corruption gathers on the brink of the veil
Soulless eyes glowing, pitiless and cold
Insatiable in their yearning
Unrelenting in their cravings

The forest comes alive with nocturnal stirring
Dried branches reaching like skeletal hands
Blackened nets gathering the darkness
While the wind wails like a banshee widow

Raspy, scratching, steely claws slicing threads
Eyes gleam as the fabric slowly disintegrates
Feral and unblinking, hardened sinews tighten
Until at last, the lunge and release

The night erupts as the moon ascends
Creatures propelled by a merciless need
Shadowy glimpses tasting the coming of night
To them, everything is prey

When the darkness hunts, it comes as conqueror
An executioner draped in velvet silence
With footsteps heavy upon the spine of earth
And fangs sunk deep into its underbelly

Field and farm shudder beneath the weight of shadows
Ancient memories of ancient beings
Myth now prowling the land of the living
The coming of night and the scent of death

Signs are not posted, but the warning is clear
The message seeps into your marrow
An icy cold that has no tie to the weather
Eternity wrapped in the terror of night

The coming of night offers no rest
Words spoken in a tongue older than the dawn
Like the shadows, all things will bend
And on this night, many things will break

Additional Reading

R.J. (Ralph) Schwartz is an American poet, author, website owner, and online publisher. His writing spans several poetry collections—ranging from spiritual and romantic to fear-driven explorations—and even extends into science fiction. Notable works include:

• Hope – Inspirational and Spiritual Poetry

• Things That Go Bump in the Night – Poetry of Fear and Fright

• The Lover’s Thread – Poetry for Couples

• Poetry of the Human Condition – The Ups and Downs of Modern Living

• The Secrets of the Moon (a sci-fi novel co-authored with his son Sebastian J. Schwartz)

Schwartz’s work is described as purposefully wordy, richly descriptive, and thematically grounded in nature, romance, antiquity, and forgotten histories. He writes regularly on platforms he manages, including The Creative Exiles, a collaborative venue for writers, and The Gypsy Thread, which delves into offbeat histories, pagan lore, and poetry.

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R J Schwartz

I write about everything and sometimes nothing at all.I'm fascinated by old things, rusty things, abandoned places, or anywhere that a secret might be unearthed.I'm passionate about history and many of my pieces are anchored in one concept of time or another.I've always been a writer, dating back to my youth, but the last decade has been a time of growth for me.I'm continually pushing the limitations of vocabulary, syntax, and descriptive phrasing.

Latest posts by R J Schwartz (see all)

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