I hear the mourning of the nightingale.
A song for silent sentinels incensed
Above the lensed and lensless eye that grips
The listless, stony shackle in the sky.
The heavens wheel their solemn dirges, pale;
Her family firm laments the firmament’s
Lacuna. Stellar tears, eclipsed, eclipse
The listless, stony shackle in the sky.
Orion yet commands I fly; he flails,
He raves Celestial doom—demands, relents
To nothing. She had sought apocalypse,
The listless, stony shackle in the sky.
I failed. I turned my back, I watched her die,
The listless, stony shackle in the sky.