The Watchers

THE WATCHERS

Through the forest he silently shifted
His horse leaving the cobble stone track,
To the soft supple ground his horse wandered
Leaving that house in the black.
Yet the darkness did not fail to shadow
And the night stayed as black as can be,
And the man felt his presence was not the only one
That there were others he couldn't yet see.
With his hand to his mouth he shouted:
"Is there anyone out there," he cried,
And though he could feel other beings
The echoing failed and died.
And from his fine horse he dismounted
Through the woods did he wander and seek,
And he wailed and he cried and he listened
Yearning for someone to speak.
But to his sharp ears there came nothing
Not a sound not a wail not a cry,
As he passed many slim slender fern trees
He knew not that the watchers came by.
Yes the watchers, the beings, the bodies
Without voice or appearance within,
For treacherous crimes and wrong doings
Have been punished to a life of sin.
Those beings they wanted to cry to him
In their minds they shouted in pain,
But their cruel and sinful punishment
Had left them never to speak again.
And the hopes of the man failed and shattered
As he turned and went back passed the ferns,
But he still sensed the presence of beings
In his heart he could feel how they yearned.