The Omen of Shadow

When shadow devours you,

the air turns to iron.

Birds fall silent,

the rivers hesitate in their course,

and the world bows its head.

The old ones said it was battle,

a wolf’s triumph,

a dragon swallowing the sky.

But I know it is more.

It is a wound.

It is a threshold.

It is a door where light and dark

kneel together.

I stand beneath it,

my body trembling with the trees.

The earth groans as if remembering

its birth pains.

I want to cry out,

but no sound can live here.

When you return,

you are never the same.

And neither am I.