Fingers of Shadow

I felt it first in the quiet night,
A spark beneath my skin, a subtle light.
Shadows stir when I breathe,
Hands I don’t recognize begin to weave.

I reach, and the air bends near,
A hidden power I’m starting to steer.

Fingers of shadow, stretch through the air,
Twisting softly, no one dares stare.
The world tilts when I call its name,
A strange gift, one I can’t contain.

Windows flicker, walls seem to lean,
The night responds to what’s unseen.
Every step I take leaves a trace,
A quiet spark, it reshapes my face.

I touch, and the night leans in close,
A thrill I crave, though I fear it most.

Fingers of shadow, flow from my hands,
Shaping the calm where normal stands.
The thrill it pierces like a spear,
A whisper grows I can’t yet hear.

Hands shift, I don’t need to speak,
The quiet bends, and I grow weak.
A pull, a rush, it coils inside,
The power moves me, I cannot hide.

Fingers of shadow, bending the night,
A force alive, now feeding my delight.
I don’t resist, I no longer plead,
The darkness grows, consuming every need.

Fingers of shadow, I am the night,
No one remains outside my sight.
Power flows through my veins, untamed,
I’ve surrendered, I’ve become the flame.

My fingers of… POWER!