Shadows of the Seekers

Our night dawns through the haze so thick,
mist rolls in, shadows grow quick.
Flowing around those who falsely believe,
they cling to the lies that they weave.
Believing they’re better than they truly are,
blinded by dogma, they've strayed too far.

Take care, my friends, for the hunt is on,
a fragile freedom fading with the dawn.
The little we have slips through their clutch,
while we protect our truths they fear to touch.

Do not disturb the balance we’ve made,
a delicate dance in the twilight’s shade.
For their ignorance is a fortress they build,
their fear the weapon with which they’re filled.

The believers only slay their own ghosts,
banishing demons they fear the most.
Killing what they don’t understand,
driven by fear that stains their hands.

Their only key is fear’s cruel call,
it’s how they survive, it’s how they fall.
From this fear, their temples of hate arise,
a house of mirrors reflecting their lies.

For fear has birthed the supernatural tide,
and we, my kin, are the shadows they hide.
We are the reflections they wish to escape,
the specters born of the fears they shape.

But in their terror, they do not see—
that we are the truth of what they could be.
We are the seekers, the watchers of night,
the keepers of secrets hidden from sight.

For they become what they have been seeking,
a shadowed truth they’re too blind for peeking.
In their fear, they transform, unaware—
the hunted become the hunters’ despair.

So let them chase, let them hunt and cry,
they’ll find themselves in the shadows they spy.
For in their quest to purge their dread,
they only unearth what they’ve truly fed.

We are the seekers who stand our ground,
watching the fearful spin themselves round.
For the night will dawn, and we will remain—
the bearers of truths they cannot contain.