7 May 2017

I stood, a dread watchman, ‘fore all of the night

Asked, “Who among us would stand for the poor or the weary?

Who would take heed of the the sleepless, the Dreary?

And Who would stand strong in my place, as in silence I fall?”

 

Then I fell into sleep, as it stood slowly calling,

Held faith, that in this feeble protest I cried out while falling,

I might somehow send warning to others, to ward them of folly:

 

“What stillness of shadows I now sweetly dream

That I fall into night with a silenced, shrill scream

And I, frozen, stand chained to folly’s rock

Letting darkly dreamt and seeming demons knock

That I might weave my own dark pall, and they-

Through razor maws and lightless eyes, might ask my soul”