"The Feathers Fall, The Stone's Lament"

A chasm yawned, a sepulchral well,
Wherein my soul, in darkness fell.
No Lethe’s stream, no quenching tide,
But arid void, where phantoms hide.
I knew it not, the fatal leap,
But found myself where shadows sleep.
 
This “beauty,” fiendish, hellish art,
A vaulted tomb, to tear apart.
The moon, a spectral, pallid gleam,
A moment’s respite, a fevered dream.
A rounded chamber, cold and vast,
Where hope lies shattered, shadows cast.
 
Emptiness, a shroud, a winding sheet,
I crave its touch, its bitter sweet.
I breathe, a gasp, a hollow sigh,
And laugh, a sound that makes the angels die.
No fear, no dread, no mortal plea,
But silent madness, claiming me.
 
The heart, a pendulum, in morbid sway,
Beats out the dirge of my decay.
I preach, a sermon, dark and deep,
From depths of self, where secrets sleep.
 
I VENT! A raven’s croak, a tortured cry,
A sound that rends the midnight sky.
My brow, a dented, ruined dome,
Is this a dream, or spectral home?
 
I REMEMBER, fragments, pale and wan,
And FORGET, the light of days now gone.
Words, like feathers, soft and frail,
To hardened stone, in stress’s gale.
 
This asylum, mine, a haunted keep,
Where beauty festers, sorrows creep.
My senses numb, to fear’s cold sting,
No flight remains, no soaring wing.
“My dear,” I whisper, “weep no more,”
For tears are vain, on this desolate shore.
 
They fall, like acid, from my weary eyes,
As time, a phantom, swiftly flies.
No love, no solace, can be sent,
In this dark realm, where reason’s rent.
 
I breathe, a deathly, hollow sound,
And laugh, where sanity is drowned.
No fear, no hope, no mortal plea,
But silent madness, claiming me.
 
The limit broken, reason’s flight,
In this dark chamber, endless night.
Patience, a raven, flown away,
Leaving madness, in grim display.
The world, a whisper, faint and low,
As I descend, where shadows grow.
The only truth, the only call,
The echo of madness, claiming all.