Poetry the new plague.

[The Phantarch]

A painting meets me on every floor,
It's eyes follow me to every door,
The eerieness sets in.

I could see encroaching darkness,
Arcanum of a forgotten hardness,
Purloins me amidst the din.

Myriad jaws unhinge,
Deathly fires seethe and singe,
The forgotten truth,
The last phase,
Now embryoes spring of age.

The jaws, they lock.
And the babe, it rocks,
Its naivity, its grace.

Caterwaul sounds,
The lost battleground,
The air has a acrid taste.

Modernisation sets in,
A loss of innocence for all our kin,
The new scourge,
The new blight,
Is found in the ersatz succour of the night.