~ a poem about those omens following us all

In dreaming of nightmares,
Posit them instead of as reveries – as tails
Imagine every terrible night’s vision a shadow in life’s prayers
An omen borne from your morning survival, bleeding and baying along your trails

Each of these omens is a hunter-turned-scavenger, a beast cooled 
And they, these roaming killers, are hungry 
Displaced from the jungles where they formerly ruled
Relegated to a damned followership, in their new country 

You are their subject, birthed upon your transient nightly escapade
Deemed to stalk your every step, an ender’s courtship
They do not follow you out of fealty, maws in a dissuade
These dark, beastly omens are waiting for a slip

And even though your light could dispel their shadow
Hunger overrules their reason
Their essence is already on borrow 
And you are never, ever out of season.