Upon the cliff She stands,
Lily-white skin ghostly glows in the dark of the storm swept night.
The sea a raging torrent relentless hammers
And from far below, spray sent surging up
Is crystal frosted and whipped away by now razored winds.
Her ravens fly on feathered wings
Umbral shadowed black
their cries and calls a funeral dirge with the rolling thunder merge
and lightning flash across obsidian orbs
For Her they fly and through their eyes She sees
……and on the wind her song doth distant reach, a whisper, a howl, a banshees wail seductive, compelling...
...come to me... come to me...
The galleon tossed and flung on wave wild waters,
sails lashed and slit by driven sleet and snow and ice encrusts its hull,
permeating through its decks to quell and quench what it finds within.
She smiles, her sonorous melody sliding spectral fingers through
and into each and every member of the crew,
and steals from them their bodies warmth,
coaxes out last lingering breath from quieting lungs,
plucks a final chord a last tremulous beat from faltering hearts
and all to gentle slumber leads,
laying them down where once they stood,
the toils of life now put aside,
and troubles now forgot,
and life is stilled and peaceful reigns
she claims and welcomes them to her demesne.
With no hand on helm, no living eye to see,
No voice to sound, and none its warning hear
Floundering now and heavy and tired
this proud ship with none to guide, none to steer,
empty now but for the dead,
And for the dead her klaxon tolls,
one last muster ships’ bell sounds ...
resonating echo through her hold
And all the while the ice get harder...
And fractured now her slender prow doth shake and shudder,
this once proud galleon now is drawn
and her hull dashed to kindling with none to mourn
and She upon the cliff still stands…
And the dead wide eyed watch unseeing
While sinking down to murky depths,
all cares save one now taken and gone,
as further from the light they fall
a final image to their souls it burns,
seared forever into their minds...
...Of lilly-white skin ghost lit glowing
Of soft sensuous full lipped smile
that ne’er emerald fired eyes doth reach
Of long red hair the wind riding….
Of terrible beauty marble sculptured
Silhouetted high upon the cliff , up....on the cliff...
For the dead do see and all recall
And the dead do fear… And so they should
For when She steals thee in Her songs embrace,
Warm life’s breath she first doth take…
Then in death eternal art thou yoked
no rest is there, no final sleep
nor peace nor hope nor release nor mercy no
just rot and fade, become a shade
with eyes obsidian black and on umbral feathers take flight
for now thou art naught but a vessel only fit to carry Her sight….
forever hungering, forever thirsting, forever on the wing
stormcrowe raven harbinger of doom flitting fearfully forever through the gloom..
Yes the dead do fear... and rightly so.
And so my friend should you.