I woke uneasy, trembling slow,

A tilt of head, my eyes did close.

The ground was hard, the silence deep,

A voice intruded on my sleep:

“Wake up—you’ve fallen, rise again,

Your medicine awaits you, friend.”

I saw the stone, the floor below,

But limbs lay heavy, would not go.

Again the call, insistent, near—

I forced myself to stand, though sheer

Exhaustion pulled me back to bed,

Where dreamless sleep enshrouded head.

Then came the night, a flicker fast,

A shadow through the doorway passed.

Too swift for thought, too sharp to seem,

I questioned waking, doubted dream.

And later still, in midnight’s veil,

A form arose—so stark, so frail.

It blocked my path, it filled my sight,

I raised my hands, prepared to fight.

Yet nothing struck, no weight, no breath—

An empty veil, a phantom’s death.

Were they to haunt, to watch, to bind?

I left the question far behind.

For shadows linger, watchers leer,

They search for weakness, feed on fear.

But I walk on—unmoved, aware:

I fight, and know none shall ensnare.

For I had said my prayers that night,

And trust my guardians’ steadfast might;

No harm shall ever here befall—

The Lord protects, and conquers all.