The gloaming

The shroud of night is laid low
A death mask image of the day beneath
Eulogies prayed over the dearly departed
Funeral dirges mournful and despairing

Wailers earn their wages
Keening sorrowfully for a time well-lived
Never to be emulated
Never to be bested

The gloaming spreads, darkening, deepening
Voices now raised in praise
A vigil of celebration for the the dying light
Mummers merging with the shadows

Bodies swaying to the music of twilight
A parade of fools
Masquerading as spirits
Trumpeting the rising sun.

Linked to The Tenth Daughter of Memory

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I believe all good fiction includes an element of truth, and all good photography includes an element of fantasy. In this journal I hope to give voice to the stories swirling around in my head, and to capture the images I see through my camera’s lens.

12 thoughts on “The gloaming

  1. i didn’t know what mummers were until i listened to the music of loreena mckinnet many years ago. your words paint a powerful and vivid image and i sense a celtic ceremony somewhere in here……..really enjoyed this


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