The Blood Moon

Flowing crimson red,
the night carries her tenderly,
across the dark abyss.

Through the centuries,
legends are made in the telling,
of demons,
of witches,
of ghosts and ghouls.

An evil that grows,
and a lust that burns
leaving haunting passions breathless.

Her mystery is timeless
and her mesmerizing beauty devours,
in pain,
in madness,
in suffering and regret.

All is lost in a glance,
and souls like kindling
are sentenced and bound to forever burn,

Trapping unwary souls,
within her endless liquid depths
devoured by the scarlet heart of the blood moon.

~Mark Schutter ©2014

Poem #8 of 31 for October Poetry Writing Month, #OctPoWriMo