HARBINGERS OF DOOM

Sometimes……I dream.

I dream of the land of the throat singers,

where strings play the melody of death

and the flute sings the lament of the damned.

Where the bent old shamans hoarse with ancient mantras,

sing of the times long forgotten

and warn of the apocalypse looming beneath the horizon.

Sometimes……I dream.

I dream of the land of the travelling gypsies,

where women dance away their loneliness

and the crystal balls lie without any shame.

Where the black eyes of silent children,

murmur a thousand secrets

and carry the shadows of forgotten desires.

Sometimes……I dream.

I dream of the land of mer-people under the stormy seas,

where the darkness rules each corner

and the weight of the waters burden the heart.

Where the dark smiles of mermaids,

weave a million enticements

and seduce the sailors to their death.

Sometimes……I dream.

I dream of the land of dark forests under humid skies,

where the old gnarled trees stand guard

and their roots grip the black soil with unimaginable strength.

Where the birds chirp cautiously

with fear in their tiny hearts,

afraid to disturb the sleeping tree gods.

Sometimes……I dream.

And my dreams are so dark,

pulsating with secrets and shadows,

manifestations of depression

or harbingers of doom?

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