Upon one Night’s solemn, a dream caressed my soul
darkly,
And I awoke with all light failing, dying in cold
winds bewailing
“A ghostly curtain,” I declared!—beyond my window
peering;—
A wanton Lover that beshrew my deepest slumber
To what pleasures might arise, before my last breath
is taken—
Surely I will ponder in gardens bleeding obsidian
Twas a Winter’s song, I recall—she first loomed upon
the ages;
A fable—wherest my skin still broods in those dark
torn pages
My beloved once wed;—now an apparition wild and
seething
Her beauty tis but a lament, forever lost in my soul,
haunting—
This winged-Demon outside, dripping terror from the
trees;—
Unto a night of dread—a tempest of ebon seas
Decay hath become wine thru many Moons bleak and
passing
Yet this black figure threatens my carriage of
madness;—
“I beseech thee,” she bemoaned, clad in crimson
shadows
A Goddess or Demon, returned in naked prominence
beguiling
‘Lust and seraphic-whispers forged in Acheronian lore—
Her lips bestow the Night evermore
Then this Nightly maiden—grim in my soul scarcely
breathing—
Bore sadness and radiance as I stood there
weary;—wishing ..
“Art thou Devil’s plume spilling upon my laden bed
dreaming—
Tell me this Night hath neither glory nor Elysium!”
Far into my dying soul she plunged, upon this Witching
hour—
Whisper’d she: “Your heart I yet drink and devour”
Lo a thousand winged-spectres filled all the horizons
assailing
And here I shall sleep—in this sky dark’n deep—
For no morrow I dare seek—or prophet of a Love
forsaken
Her blackness billows thru my veins and memories
fleeting—
In a song of silence, my senses wane; o’er the
Midnight shore—
Among the dead—I dream evermore
—
Arthur Crow © 2017
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