There’s a trace of darkness
Hanging over his soul
As he teeters on the edge 
Of an alien sink hole

There’s a hint of something shady
Just beyond what the normal
Eye would see…

Swirling like water in an unplugged sink
There’s a stain of black on…
The pool where he used to drink
It’s comforting and worrisome
It’s something he’s wanted
Longed for
Pined for
Lived every minute of everyday for
And yet…
There’s some hesitation

If only briefly
It’s cold under, the shadow
Of that age-old family tree
It’s not fear
They’re familiar
Whatever, whoever “they” are
Perhaps it is, that he senses
The makings of a colossal
Intergalactic war
Perhaps he senses that
Once you step out of the light
You can never go back…
Perhaps he feels the watchers watching
Scheming
Waiting for something

He knows all too well
The reality
Of things you can’t touch
Of spaces you can’t feel
Of people with powers
The foolish skeptic would classify as unreal
Of the world that opens
When he closes his eyes
Of apparitions you barely glimpse
Milliseconds before you die
Of the fishy variety large and small
That fall and get pulled from the sky

There’s a trace of darkness
Hanging over his soul
As he teeters on the edge of 
On an alien sink hole

He’s waiting for the signal
To jump in…
To sink or swim

For the chaos to begin
It’s been a long time coming

Ignorance and enlightenment
Won’t make you any safer 
Some of us won’t make it out of…
The Shadow of the Modsefa

Perhaps most…
There’s a trace of darkness
In the unusual spring-summer-fall rain
A solid yet surprisingly fluid stain