Sunday, April 21, 2013

Vox Clamantis in Deserto

Vox Clamantis in Deserto

(If there be any fear I fear most, I fear myself the most)

Whilst strolling down the purple moor, the chilly winter fogs that eve;
I saw no men (nor any women either), along the frosty moor,
As far as my vision could perceive.

Like dancing ghouls the trees did stand,
Vicious shadowy figures of a lofty height;
It chilled my bones and froze my hand,
Like a daunted dream of a ghastly night.

Among the gusty trees, I heard a sound,( or  maybe from somewhere farer)
Startled, yet not to fear, I tried so hard;
Was that the howl of a bloody hound,
Or a piquant tune of a lonely bard?

The eerie winds brought to my numbing ear,
Sinful melancholous wails from the wild;
It rattled my ruffled soul with fear,
And left me dismayed as a lone child.

I heard cries of agony and of pain,
Oft of despair, filled with a morbid tear;
Looked for the one lamenting, yet in vain,
For I saw no soul upon, far and near.

A thought sinister came to my frightened mind,
That it was my deepest fear, I just heed;( fear from self, howsoever awkward it may seem)
For some soul I looked for, yet never did find,
Alas! It was not a cry from the wilderness,
But of my heart instead.


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