They Came From The Dark Side Of The Moon

They Came From The Dark Side Of The Moon

They came when the sky held its breath in silence,

When even the stars seemed afraid to be seen,

A hush lay thick on the bones of the night,

And something unseen moved between.

No wind dared stir the blackened air,

No dog would bark, no child would cry,

Only the weight of a watching presence,

Pressed low beneath the sky.

They came without footstep, without warning,

Slipping through cracks in the edge of sleep,

Cold as the space between two heartbeats,

Where buried fears still keep.

I felt them before I ever saw them,

A tightening coil beneath my skin,

As if my blood knew their arrival,

As if it had once let them in.

Their faces were not for human knowing,

Their eyes held depths no prayer could reach,

And every thought I tried to gather,

Fell apart before their speech.

They did not speak, yet I could hear them,

A crawling sound behind the mind,

Like echoes dragged through endless distance,

Of something cruel, and blind.

They stood at the edge of what I am,

Where soul meets shadow, thin and worn,

As if they came to claim a debt,

From something long before I was born.

I tried to call, I tried to move,

fear had locked me deep in place,

And all the light I ever trusted,

Could not touch that hollow space.

They came from the dark side of the moon,

Where no soft mercy ever falls,

Where silence grows into something living,

And night itself still calls.

And when they left, they took no footprint,

No mark to prove they had been near,

Only the echo of their passing,

And a life now shaped by fear.

My life, I was sent to a hospital,

They said I would remain there all my days,

I know what stood before me in that darkness,

No voice can turn that truth away.

They called it dreams, or something broken,

They wrote their words, they closed the door,

I still feel that watching silence,

The same as it was before.

I know what I saw that night of stillness,

I know the shape of what drew near,

And deep within the quiet hours,

I feel them waiting, drawing near.

And though they say I am forgotten,

And though they say I will not leave,

I know they will come again in darkness,

For I remember, and they believe.

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