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There was a cry, I thought I’d heard,
Or was it just a whispered word?
A silhouette pierced my view:
The shape of things, I thought I knew.

His breath so soft, so still and deep,
He seemed to speak inside my sleep.
I ran in dreams—through dungeon trees
With fallen angels upon their knees.

I tried to speak. My words fell low
With what began so long ago.
I lost my way, I left behind
All the life I hoped to find.

Go! Leave this place—don’t say goodbye,
This is the tomb of a demon sky.
I’ll see you then, when I’m aware
Someday in the dark somewhere.

My broken blood, my spilling soul,
Gone today—I yet feel whole.
I never was, as I am so free
With no gods to answer me.

I crawled to bed, I slept so sound
With the world dying all around.
I had a dream of fire and rain
Woke to pleasure and to pain.

My sickened cell, my lock and chain
Somewhere in the mortal plane.
Still I hear those strange far cries
Of phantom angels in my eyes.

I quote no bard. Thought is my own,
I bow before no Monarch’s Throne.
But where there is death and tears
There is sweet music in my ears.

I thought I saw a moon of blue
When my fever was new.
My mind was good, my heart was ill;
Hope despaired—I lost my will.

An empty seat, a candle there;
A face beyond the silken glare.
I wait here now, shade and form
For the dawning of the storm.

The sun is black, the moon is red
Shining on the living and the dead.
I cry today, waiting for a rose
Where no bloom ever grows.

Adieu, adieu. I say farewell
Here on Earth, as if in Hell.
I’ll sleep more sound; more quiet still
With time on my side—enough to kill.

© 2020 Marten Hoyle