The Box
By Ian Black

Never more a sunrise,

And never more a song.

Never more a spark of hope,

The light of day has gone.

The ancient seal, now broken,

The only ward in place,

And now, without it’s shelter,

The night pursues our race.

Stalking from the shadows,

When once, we knew but light.

Hunting prey among the angels,

And killing for delight.

Blackness coats the sea and sky,

Horizons fierce ablaze.

For ever more an endless night,

To meet our final days.

In the dark, the howling beasts,

The feasting of the vile,

The last we see against the night,

The devil’s scarlet smile.

And in the sky, among the smoke,

Of slaughtered, burning towns,

Demon’s soar, eagle eyed,

And snatch their prey, aground.

There is no time to mourn our fate,

No pause to free our tears.

Nor is there a single hope,

To lay to rest our fears.

Our final hour has fallen,

As timeless evil knocks.

This endless nightmare brought to life,

By the all corrupting Box.

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