For the Taj

In the moonlight, many a time
the predator stalks its hapless prey
the blackness damp a sure friend
to the intent evil in the prowler's heart
Yet seldom has it happened so
that a villain's hand be such cursed
It shrouds all that breathes and feels
It clouds all warmth, all hope, all light
And darkens the days as if they were night.

The bustle and gaeity in warm corners
bathed by gentle fires or priceless wine
All were to die in a burst of rage
that sailed in on a surreptitious tide.

The reapers of death prowled as one mind
drowning countless dreams in pools of red
And though they claim they fought for their kind
They butchered their brothers while they slept

Dawn spilt through, yet there was no morn
the streets stayed timid and cold
Gripped by terror and blind wrath
Nature too felt strange and choked

Never before a season so grey
and sorrowful Autumn had seemed
Than now as bodies fell faster than leaves
As a city lay under siege.

The hours were endless, time a strain
War had stayed all rush
Just hearts raced, and prayers hummed
for the lives spitefully crushed.

The sun was dim as heroes marched
no joy, no cheer for the win
For the rays of sunshine were smothered
by souls that skirted up the wind.

A harsh lesson that shattered a world
that warned "Evil breathes behind your back."
That bade to stem the fires of hatred
lest the doves of peace burn black.