St Vitus and the dance

Fused blue to the Northern lights
which in the shivers
they send me
become the cure
in the end
we
all quake.

Forsaking the worst of the nights so averse
to the shadows that wait by the walls,
I am called to some nameless
by voices that harness
my thoughts.

Casually astral
a
fascination emerges
and
blood surges through the walls
of my veins
where
the shadows still wait for me
taunting me
is this to be
my fate?

All is colour
all is pain
fused blue
to the Northern lights
where again
the
shadows wait.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.