The Hidden Armies (Poetry)

Night is coming! Night is coming!
Watch its stain spread from the hill —
stalking twilight, creeping closer —
feel its grey aggressor’s chill.

There! — The hand of dark is rising —
clutching at the day’s pale throat —
squeezing out the dregs of colour —
see its fingers flex and choke.

Finding gaps between brave candles
lit to drive old terrors back —
it infiltrates to fill each hollow
with a smothering of black.

Night brings on its hidden armies —
hosts that march unseen, unheard
to overpower day’s last glimmer —
snuff it out without a word.

Night swarms wide — invades and conquers —
holds the sleepless mind in thrall —
conjures dread from superstition —
takes us hostage — one and all.