[Dream Gate] [Poet Glas]

Blame It on the Bushmill's

I enjoy studying the effects and affects of Myth. I wrote this poem at Atlanta's Masquerade.

Whispering through the trees the night winds sing
While chills crawl upon the hapless spine.
The Wolf has howled, the bat and owl a-wing
And comforting horror warms us midst fires of pine.

Fire-told tales of stalking, night-bound fears
Have long been tales to tell within night's veil;
As Western folk have done five-thousand years
Drawing deep from Dream's subconscious well.

Myth and legend and Folk-tales dark
Have lightened man's eternal, gloomy night;
Why have tales of fear so left their mark
Yet aided us by sapping Fear's own might?

How odd it is that tales of fear and dread
Have weakened Fear, and sent it off to bed.

Copyright 1 Sep 96, by Earle B. 'Glas' Durboraw.

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