The toll of the bell,
the streets filled with musty air.
With clang, the heavy iron gates fell
and an owl hooted somewhere.
Cloaked under the darkest night,
the hooded figures ride forth.
Their shadow rein the mind in flight,
the dreams of children, women and men.
A bony hand opens the door,
the only wall between good and evil.
No one saw the sun soar.
It crawled in and blinded everyone.
The screams of evil pierced the silence.
They were sublimated by the golden orb.
The slumber, defeated, jumped over the fence
as the people of the sane world rose.