The Beetle and The Enigmatic Allure of Smoke By Eric Buechel

Exploring The Intriguing World of The Beetle and

The Enigmatic Allure of Smoke

By Eric Buechel

In the twilight's shroud where shadows creep,

A whispering fog begins to seep,

Through gnarled branches, twisted and frail,

Where secrets linger, and phantoms wail.

A beetle, cloaked in obsidian sheen,

Scuttles forth from a realm unseen,

With eyes like lanterns, glimmering bright,

It dances on the edge of night.

The smoke, a serpent, coils and twines,

Inhaled by dreams where madness aligns,

It curls through the air with a ghostly sigh,

A lament for the lost, as the echoes die.

Oh, the moon, a pale and watchful eye,

Weeps silver tears from a sorrowful sky,

As the beetle, a harbinger of fate,

Guides the lost souls through the iron gate.

Each puff of smoke, a story untold,

Of lovers entwined in the grip of the cold,

Of laughter that echoes in chambers of dread,

Of tales that are woven from whispers of dead.

In this realm where the living dare not tread,

Where the beetle weaves dreams in the fabric of dread,

The smoke rises high, a spectral ballet,

As night swallows softly the remnants of day.

So linger, dear traveler, in shadows so deep,

Where the beetle and smoke in their vigil do keep,

For in this surreal dance, reality bends,

And the line between madness and beauty transcends.

Eric Buechel Fine Art

P. O. Box 277

Pleasant Hill, Tennessee

38578

931-881-7806

email