beneath the quiet earth

Beneath the Quiet Earth"

Beneath the soil where secrets sleep,

Where roots entwine and silence keeps,

The dead still whisper, soft and low,

Of things the living ought not know.

The moon is pale, her gaze is thin,

She sees what crawls beneath the skin.

In shadows deep, the rot takes hold—

Not all that dies is ever cold.

A mirror cracks with every breath,

Time limps behind, dressed up as death.

The clocks are liars, ticking lies—

What’s buried once may always rise.

The candle burns, its flame askew,

The dark remembers more than you.

And should you knock where none reply,

Beware what answers from the sky.