Because you can never have too much vampire poetry….
This one is an (obvious) homage to the poetry of Robert W. Service.
The Longest Night
There is a land where the cold winds blow
And blood runs chill in mortal veins
Where game is scarce and the hunt is cold,
And loneliness drives a man insane.
There is a place where the world is ice
And where even wolves are loathe to roam.
Where the earth is white and the sky is black
And the spirit frozen.
I call it home.
The living have given it fearsome names
The doomed have cursed it with dying breath,
But it draws them still, for passion and gold,
This frozen empire whose king is Death.
So they brave the darkness that has no end
And they curse the ice that swallows the day
While the madness beckons, that comes of the dark
In a world without sunrise.
I call them prey.
Let the weak who hunger for light and fire
Huddle up for warmth in the tender south.
I will claim my comfort without a pyre
And I’ll wrest my food from Destruction’s mouth.
And when nights are empty and hunting bleak
I’ll howl my hunger as I search for food
‘Neath a frozen moon, near to frozen seas,
In a crystalline prairie.
I call it good
For the longest night has come at last
And the sun’s extinguished, its glory dead.
And the blackened sky is alight with stars
While jeweled veils flicker overhead
And the smell of blood carries on the wind
Like the finest scent of the finest wine
And time it is frozen, and midnight endures,
In the land that is Winter.
I call it mine.