Some things are dark — or think they are.
But, in comparison to me,
All things are light enough to see
In any place, at any hour.
For I am Nightmare: where I fly,
Terror and rain stand in the sky
So thick, you could not tell them from
That blackness out of which you come.

So much for “where I fly”: but when
I strike, and clutch in claw the brain —
Erebus, to such brain, will seem
The thin blue dusk of pleasant dream.