Knowledge

I know things.
There are shadows I have crossed
that whispered to me
unutterable prophecies,
languages too ancient to perceive
by any natural ear —
and I can only say
that there are certain darknesses
in the blank corners of the world,
doors that disappear,
places that are nowhere at all,
things you do not wish to
fathom: these secrets
you do not desire to hold.
And I think that
even with what I know,
I barely pierce the surface
of what horror exists
and can exist
in hearts very much like yours,
or mine, twisted
beyond recognition.
And this warning or a thought:
as I bide my time, no one
ever asks about
just that particular look in my eye.