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Peter Walsh Poem
A thunder-clap, the storms approach, an eerie revelation
No hope for man, nor none for 'roach
A prophetic annihilation
The World awaits a gruesome end, apocalyptic measures
Mans soul it hangs, tentative, it bends
Ensnared in its false treasures
The evening veil of darkness, accomplice to the Moon
Covers up its Naked Secrets, a portent clear
A harbinger of doom
His end, long in the making, a teardrop in the Ocean
Damned eternal, he waits there, shaking
Unsaved by his devotion
Arch-Angels weep eternal, both wings and hands are tied
The wind it cuts, the rains will never
Wash clean Infernal Ties
Faith leaves you at the alter, tattooed in your own shame
At Times of War, in Trial by Fire
Death calls you by your name
A tribute to Edgar Allen Poe
Copyright © Peter Walsh | Year Posted 2014
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