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The Sirens of Shadows Dark
J. Scott Smith
At times I find myself troubled by things great and grand
Formidable things, frightenly so, with surly shadows dark
Forboding fingers cast out from brooding castles in the sand
Angrily thrust across dune and wave and frothing watermark
Pointed warnings of Flee! Run! Away! Don't stand!
But all in vain, as I am vain, and not one wont to hark
Headlong I fly toward that treacherous, dangerous land
Carried on whisped wings of whim feathered merely by lark
Then debarked there, alone, among Failure's faithful band
Too late, too late, I hear calling the sirens of shadows dark
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