In the depths of lunar shadows the coldness bites hardest,
where only phantoms and wraiths dare to tread.
.
The stale breath of empty flesh offers the only warmth,
and staggering corpses of yesteryear the only company.
.
Vexing thoughts and haunting memories fester all around,
and the stars do not reach here with dreams anew.
.
Angels hurl by in a blaze of glory, but have no time to spare,
demons only gawk and snicker from a safe distance.
.
The icy breeze of drones stirred by their distant march chills,
cutting through the tattered embrace of my waning cloak.
.
In the depths of lunar shadows the coldness bites hardest...