Shadows of Halloween

The moon hung low, a silver thread,

In the sky where shadows tread,

A night where stories come alive,

And in the dark, old spirits thrive.

The air was thick with autumn’s breath,

As leaves crunched softly, echoing death,

But not of life, no mortal end,

Instead, a veil where worlds blend.

Beneath the stars, in midnight’s fold,

A tale of ages, once retold,

Of witches clad in robes of night,

Their eyes alight with ancient light.

They gathered ’round with glee, with cheer,

In voices old, both far and near,

A cauldron bubbled, hissed, and spat,

A brew that held both this and that.

The fire beneath it crackled wild,

As the night itself seemed beguiled,

By laughter laced with something deep,

A secret none were meant to keep.

The flames danced high, in orange and red,

As ghosts of old were gently led,

To join the circle, hands entwined,

A dance of fate, a dance of mind.

For on this night, the veil was thin,

And through it, all could look within,

To see the faces long since gone,

Now flickering like the breaking dawn.

But not with fear did they appear,

Their presence brought no shade of tear,

Instead, they whispered truths untold,

In languages of dreams and gold.

The night grew long, the stars grew dim,

As chants turned into solemn hymn,

A prayer to what had once been lost,

To those who paid the ultimate cost.

Yet in the glow of dying fire,

Was felt a spark, a pure desire,

To hold onto the threads of time,

And weave them into fate’s own rhyme.

As dawn approached, the spirits faded,

The fire died, its embers shaded,

But in the hearts of those who stayed,

The echoes of the past remained.

So on this night, once every year,

When shadows dance, and ghosts appear,

Remember those who’ve walked before,

Their stories part of something more.