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The blind wander in their ignorant bliss
They don't see the wave roar
Only we who have the sight
Can feel the storm grow
The power of the darkness ebbs and flows
Like the changing tides or the phases of the moon
But still the presence manifests
An aura of blackness in the deep purple night
The stars fear it and fade away
The mood hides from it behind a grey cloud
But the many sightless folk go their merry way
They have no idea that anything is wrong
The dogs and owls sense the storm
But the wanderers have evolved too much reason
They don't accept the merging of logic and magic
So they choose to ignore what they can't understand
But we who have the sight can reconcile both
And thus have opened our eyes and souls
To the larger magical world
And we can feel the approaching terror in the night
We see what the owl sees; we feel what the dog feels
And we can sense the wickedness others just ignore
Yet still we don't know all, in fact we're more confused
We can know of the forces but not what they mean
The powers are much larger than we are
Their truth defies our meager minds
So the approaching evil that the blind ignore, chills us to the bone
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