The Unkindness Of Ravens

Through shadowy veils of my mournful mind
is the vastness of iridescent stars,
their hopeful light does not comfort me.
The very thought of not being in the treasure
of your presence awakens the dulling grief
of my heart's loneliness.
The unkind ravens have alighted on my
cold sill,
perching in their misery of silence.
Such avian moroseness to be as black as
eve's unyielding darkness,
the onyx of their eyes in a deathly watch,
their dirge unsung.

Falling,
falling,
falling from the heady spell of after-midnight's
witchery.
Death's sudden arrival,
his rattling and frosty breath chills my
very existence.
My time of passing with his frigid kiss
is unknown.
Could I awaken in my darkened bedchamber
with his ancient icy bones at my side before he turns
my own melancholic bones to ash with his
killing kiss?


In these desolate hours I hear nearby
church bells peal heavily,
tolling, tolling for my funeral day.
Oh, what bereavement has wrought!
A deep gong of the grandfather clock,
it's face reflecting the filled October
harvest moon of fate,
fleeting misty clouds upon her
golden glorious fairness.

Edgar, dear Edgar,
was it your love, your desire, or my
inspired longing for where Death has
no dominion,
no cause to separate?
Your legend, Gothic prince,
your eyes the shadows of an eclipse.
Your mystery dust cannot conceal,
infinity cannot fade into the depths
of the timeless cosmos,
and I in my sallow sorrow will
weep for you, always. ~