Unlike a sunset, unlike a tale;
the sun just fell from the sky.
Fensham’s heart beat so fast, he felt it would fail,
as he spied a figure with his blinking eye.
A shimmering white and ethereal being
spied him clear with eyes unseen.
‘Who art thou?’ he cried. ‘Make thyself known.’
But the ghostly thing vanished, leaving him alone.
He turned to his horse: ‘Didst thou see that thing?
Or thinkest thou I am imagining?’
But the horse, in its wisdom, chose not to say,
and stared at him wisely in that horse-like way.
And so the odyssey was resumed,
across the land of darkness and death.
In the emptiness and cold, Fensham was consumed.
But the ghost watched Fensham, counting his breath:
‘Should we make ourselves known as he so forcefully asked?
Or should we allow him in his misery to bask?’
‘We are not so cruel, nor are we enjoying
seeing one of our creatures so deftly employing
his arrogance, to keep himself from losing his mind.
Let him be humbled before one of our kind,
and let him see the error of his ways.
Then he shall see whom he truly betrays.