I have never captured moonlight, nor have I harnessed suns to counter coming darkness. For demons kept at bay by light of day only return with black death of Narbondel. The skeletal harbingers creep from closets of the damned as prismatic wards fail,
becoming ruined shards slivered under the skin, to infect a need to bind men on puppet strings. I am not the child of your disgrace. I have no need of crystal illusions twisting light to a favorable perception, banishing shadows and exiled skeletons from moth-ridden cubbies. I have never captured moonlight, nor have I harnessed the sun to counter lurking demons. Instead, I stand between the shadow and the real, to balance existence on wounded fulcrums and watch as demons puzzle how the balance sways.
Keith E. Sparks Jr.
Copyright © 2004, 2019
Written in 2004, Later appeared in "Facets" 2019
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