On The Syren-Shore
These clouds ominous,
hath in my eyes become lustrous,
as the lightning flashes
and the earth it dashes
to pieces.
The thunder shalt boom
and be the harbinger of doom
as the Syren-Shore sings
and its music becomes terrifying.
Hearken to the music of the waves,
who long did save,
my heart from Sorrow's Grave.
To the Gates of Nocturne I go,
as my soul shall howling flow,
to the hypnagogic world of dreams,
where the nightingales stream,
and the moonlight falls,
like sweet rain, refreshing the Halls,
of my disquieted mind.
Consumed by dysphoric dreams,
my end is ever near it seems.
But know that I will reach the Gate of the Ascents
and leave the Valley of the Iridescents.
So, to the Endymion of the Incomplete, I re-sing to you:
Let the Echoes of Foggy Nights find repose in your head,
and the Death of a Minstrel be upon you.
poem by Soren Valentine
Added by Poetry Lover
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