Resurrection Night

I slept, and out of their ancient tombs of tissue-plasm streamed a shadowy host of Living Dead. Gliding silently across the waxed and shining floor of my soul, they breathed their breaths upon the emptièd mirror of my mind: And Terror and Guilt captained that crew.

The subtle fingers of the dawn brushed my brow and my soul flowed back into the sluiceways of the old familiar world; But long I laid in wonder staring at the wall, for in that night I had again become the Things I was before my birth. And Terror and Guilt were old shapes of me.