William

The epicenter of the human soul

Contains a rift so deeply absolute,

Science confereth on’t the name “black hole,”

Though ‘f nature, ever she’ll be in dispute.

Upon this vast I stumbled once ago,

Borne thence on certain heedless whorls of Time.

My vision grasped a nexus, where below

All human thought compressed to one sublime.

The sole imperfect blot on this ravine

Was three playfellows hanging from a tree

That o’er th’ unfathoms perilously leaned,

Link’d arm in arm, and knuckles gripping knee.

The farthest, and the aptest to let slip

Was a fiancé of the purest brow.

Above, a raven lady with a grip

Could anchor total mountains to that bough.

And twixt the twain, who kept them both in hand,

A bachelor to’s incriminating ruff

Scream’d out against the hourglass’s sand,

But every word was swallow’d by the bluff.

With no unlisted hand to hold his quill,

It slipped, and splattered ink that oozed like blood,

And hung i’th’ wind, as on a silent sill

Constructed o’er the soul’s conclusive flood.

He railed at me to rescue him with rope

And save the lives of his attractive mates,

That beauty might survive. He hung on hope

Against the purchase ‘f worlds’ worser fate.

But knew I none could fain o’ercross that span

Within which chaos shudders to a close.

This tragedy I shouted to the man,

Who bellow’d back in verses fit of prose,

“Go to’t, thou rascal! Pigeon-liver’d red!

Know’st not the plight my willsome hand could save?

Or seekest etchèd doom upon thy head,

Printed on face, and afterward on grave?”

From’s frothy mouth and from’s yet flutt’ring pen

Abounded glamours two or three times wide

Who capered weightless ‘cross th’ abysm again

And over, sightless bridging the divide,

Then sank they only slowly toward the dark,

Resounding rather from its seamless walls,

And rattled wisdom as the mongrel barks,

And faded as first prince of autumn falls,

But ever their impression did remain

In will-o-wisps, in meanings without term.

That roughèd joiner ‘f glamours rent with pain

To see his progeny his dread affirm.

He wept. I called to him, “Lament you not!

Their plight was beautiful.” He shouted back,

“Alas! I knew them well. Ere I begot

Their noble forms, I knew not how to lack

A minute painlessly. When I gave birth

To their mistake and torment, I was eased

For but a moment. Now returned to Earth,

Those models wrack me with upset reprise.

Their loss carves out a coffin of my heart.”

I soothed him. “Sir, in smoke I see them yet.

Neglect will not their faces tear apart,

Nor will their ghosts allow me to forget.”

He smiled. “’Tis done. Beloveds, disappear.”

At that the trio plunged and sank away.

And I alone remain on th’edge to hear

His screams reverberate even today.