There are many tales which may unfold, unrealized or linger untold.
Many faces of fear.
Of desolation and tears.
Tales embraced by darkened skies, where words alone may fail to describe.
The utter silence of the face undead.
Of things unspoken; of dread unsaid.
Save for a literary few, who dwell within these darkened hues.

   The scribe of days ago, with a selective choice of words.
    Shall come to cast a light; upon the dim and ghastly sights.
       Revealing the subtle and unbearable truth.
         Tis one's own self, the demon within which consumes.
          It devours the beauty we sense.
          Then exposed at our ultimate end.

                   For I, like you, am the beast unmasked.
                    Gently exposed by the pen in hand:
                    of a writer.
                     A poet .
                      A seeker of truths. 
                       A seer of men. 
                        A selected few.

Robert Aragon - 2007