The Myth Called Death
A found poem using words and phrases from Edgar Allan Poe's "The Sleeper"

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At midnight,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
Breathe in the moment β
embark our joined eternity,
my dearest darling June.
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The sun has set,
by now youβve met
the land of first and last of breath.
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Or should I rather say instead,
I sealed our fate in crimson red.
As symbol for the truest bond,
that marks our hearts for life beyond.
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And softly dripping, drop by drop
the sacred wine of life.
Pouring down your mountain top
to flush us into afterlife.
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I turn my gaze up to the skies,
and heart to truth instead of lies.
Far in the forest, dim and old,
where no one sees, I now can hold
your earthly body, soft and silky.
In midst of darkness I am guilt free.
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The pines around us, tall and straight,
in joint with moonlight blue, create
swaying shadows, wordless song,
the wanton airs too sing along.
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So fitfullyβso fearfullyβ
I lower you so carefully,
into the bed
I have prepared
for us 'til end of time to share.
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One last look,
one final breath,
before I face the myth called death.
I pray to God that we may lie
forever past our final sigh.
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I now join you there, my love,
floating on the hush above.
Hand in hand eternally,
fulfilling our souls' destiny.
And this all solemn silentness
confirms that we, at last, are blessed.
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This poem was created in response to the ViMs challenge "Poe-Found"
About the Creator
Cristal S.
I've noticed that when I follow the path I enjoy most, I often end up swimming upstream. So here I am, right in the middle of it β writing about it all and more. β‘
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