The bleak, dark soul resides in a heart that wavers between day and night. The sunset often brings a new light at the time of descent and I know life turns another page. The end of days could very well be the end of this very day when in march the shadows. They give no call first, yet you can feel them coming with a sixth sense for such things. The shadows do not wish to be unknown to the mortal, they are indifferent in that they cannot be avoided when their time comes to collect the soul of the lost. Messengers bring word of the next of the shadows to join the parade into the realm of the wary morbid, for they know what is to come. I see them once, every so often they smile wickedly for only an instant before fading into the darkness just out of sight. They will return again to remind me of where I am and to let me know they are aware of the turmoil that toils around my soul. It is this that gives me sorrow.