The Dark Jikker
Amidst the field of keening scrays
A jikker waits within the maize
Before him earthly senses fail
An eldritch waning of the veil
A boding prickles at your nape
The seal is torn; your pith agape
His hollow sight has peered through all
Through cloth, through flesh, through self, through gall
A snicker, jeer, a rattled crow
He knows that which he could not know
The shieldmask transmutes to glass
And shatters in a moment’s pass
The light goes dark on candle’s wick
Another soul, another jik