Melancholy
These pensive hours keep an age old binding—
A tomb beyond the earth, where time stands still,
The weird weeks a wayward walk unwinding,
A looping band, flipped o’er with Möbius skill.
I am but a captive in this story,
Never straying out beyond mine crypt,
A sullen statue destitute of glory—
The cup of wrath the imbibe that I sipped.
Vacuum dark beyond the reach of prophets,
Rank, with overwhelming bitter taste,
Staring into time — a black colossus,
Wilderness depression in the waste.
Even here the mill of Satan falters,
Souls agog in weakness mute as ice,
Swinging on the gallow’s creaking halters,
Dead as dead, by Satan’s sacrifice.
I entrusted me to God almighty,
Still the axe that slew me was too sharp,
Fixed below the devil’s gaze unsightly,
Deaf to hear the cupid’s gentle harp.
The clock a slow hypotonic chime unending,
Timeless deep in wry damnation’s claim,
Melancholy’s weight the fate descending,
Mesmerised in dark goetic flame.
Dolorous in endless contemplation,
Helpless to right Adam’s fallen ilk,
Cut down at mine root in devastation,
Neverending blackness smooth as silk.
ADL
adamdaniel 