111. in shadowed corners

a poem about death in the style of Edgar Allan Poe.

In shadowed corners where whispers dwell,  

A somber specter, cloaked in night’s embrace,  

Lo, the eternal silence beckons,  

In the dim-lit chambers of the heart,  

Where echoes of laughter fade,  

Like the last sigh of a wilting rose,  

Petals falling, one by one,  

Into the abyss of forgotten dreams.

Where once danced the flickering flame,  

Now rests a ghost, weary and worn,  

A shroud of melancholia draped upon  

The bones of memories,  

Cradling the weight of what has been,  

And what shall never return�"  

A waltz with shadows,  

In the ballroom of despair.

Oh, death, thou art a haunting melody,  

A dirge that coils around the soul,  

As twilight descends, painting the air  

With hues of sorrowful gray,  

Each note a tear, cascading  

From the well of time,  

Drowning the laughter of yesteryears,  

In the relentless tide of oblivion.

The raven croaks from its perch,  

An omen of the end,  

Its wings a tapestry of despair,  

Spreading wide across the horizon,  

As the sun bows low,  

Kissing the earth with a final farewell,  

And the stars, like eyes of the lost,  

Gaze down upon the remnants of life.

In this sepulcher of existence,  

Where hope flickers like a candle,  

We are but phantoms,  

Drifting through the corridors of fate,  

Seeking solace in the arms of shadows,  

Embracing the chill of the inevitable,  

For in death’s cold grasp,  

We find not an end, but a beginning anew.

So let us pen these verses,  

An elegy for the living and the dead,  

A tapestry woven with threads of grief,  

And stitched with the needle of longing,  

For each heartbeat echoes the truth:  

That in the dance of life and death,  

We are but fleeting whispers,  

Carried by the winds of time,  

Forever entwined in the embrace of the dark.