The Doomed Spell

The doomed spell of the underworld was cast on me
While I was wandering in my silent ways on a summer night
Resentment and fear were far from me but the danger of death was following me
Like an ominous shadow behind me
Ready to decide when my end was going to happen

And suddenly, like a storm in a clear sky, horror manifested itself before me.
And, to all my fears, a bewitched and gigantic carriage, guided by a demon who struck blows upon his demonic horse with sharp teeth and a spectral gaze,
a carriage populated by spectres, spirits and skeletons, all assembled as in a gathering.

My long dress became soaked with mud and earth as I crossed this road of disgrace and death.
And behold, the spectral coachman with his evil gaze headed directly towards my person to put an end to my existence, unleashing all his strength and aggressiveness and violence against me, and I almost perished — death brushed me, if it hadn’t been for a miraculous touch that diverted my figure from such horror.

Shaken and bewildered, I relived the miracle of life, of rebirth, and it was there, in that fleeting and transient instant, that I was born again, assuming a new identity, even if my appearance had not quite changed — but my heart had become of bronze, copper and silver.

The moon shone high in the night of storm and serenity, and the echo of my horror and of my spasms of fear and distress spread through all the firmament, making the stars hear my tale of misery and miracle.

The doomed spell ruled over my mad destiny and had crumbled like a kind of majestic castle.
It is splendid, but within it, my gloomy, shadowy soul was falling to pieces.
And, filled with sorrows more than joys, it was crumbling apart under the weight of life — and of that night of nightmares and atrocities.
Lisa