A Dark Congregation

A dateless eve of summer, this,
Congested by the swishing cloaks,
The lowered hoods and whitened masks:
Spiders swarming upon a fly,
Luckless, tangled in a web
Woven by the cankered blood,
A mistake of forefathers past.

The preface is a scream that rents
A benign dusk of molten pink,
Smearing it in malignant red,
Feeding death to those who’ll eat.

Ravenous bellies now fit to burst,
The gathered faceless army rise,
Singing, chanting for the Lord,
Reciting in the blessed glow
Of eyes that speak of unnamed terrors,
And words that cast their satin spell.

Happy fools, they happily follow,
Killing, snatching and ravaging,
Marching for their deliverance:
A kingdom sown from wrongful deaths.