Endeavor not the moon that glares above.
Do not walk into spectral woods unplanned.
His haunt is there, he’ll take you where
sharp shadows loom, macabre and grand.
Because of this, I warn you now to keep
your children safe, your flock secure from harm.
Don’t taunt his nose, for he likes those
that smell of concern and alarm
But please, don’t think it wrong of him to hunt.
He’s just like you, or me, a famished tomb
whose life departed, coal-black hearted,
accursed from heaven’s light: the sun
So please, tell everyone you know and love
that there is nothing much to see or fear.
For he is kind enough, at least.
Now bow your head and let me feast.