Beneath the moon’s pale, haunted glow,
Where shadows breathe, and wild winds blow,
I walk the path the night has sown,
Through ruins where the roots have grown.
The air is thick with candle smoke,
The chapel’s spine is bent and broke,
Its glass, like frozen tears, has wept,
For secrets graves have always kept.
A raven speaks in mournful rhyme,
Of lovers lost beyond all time,
Their names now dust, yet hearts still ache,
Through midnight’s veil they cannot break.
Each step I take, the ground recalls,
The echo deep in hollow halls,
And though the dark feels cold, unkind,
It whispers truths I came to find.
So here I stay, where night won’t fade,
Among the thorns the dusk has made,
For in this gloom, I see my part—
The gothic moon, my midnight heart.