Poem Hunter
My Danse Macabre
TIR ( / )

My Danse Macabre

As the chapel's chime tower on the hill strikes now twelve
And the moon's mist dives deep into the dell and does dwell

An unworldy tone rises up from the depths down below
It is He, tuning string and striking resin to his bow

He is the first to awaken, stretch out arms and make sound
And he plays as he passes and begins to make rounds

Delivering tidings of joy where was thought there was none
Reviving that which was over, unmoved, thought undone

A fleshless fancy is engaged in- unholy, unwholesome
For the dead are now dancing fully frenzied and fulsome

Past loved ones in twirl intertwined in true merriment
A euphoric co-mingling of lost sense and sold sentiment

He is the one who will help them let go and forget
And He'll let them relive without memory and regret

For such is the last hope for trapped spirits and lost souls
To find solace in his song when their time on earth tolls

But for a few precious hours, once a year, until dawn breaks
His old fiddle will still hold though his thin collar bone quakes

Now his fingers go stiff, and the song comes to a halt
He, himself drops in a heap, mostly dust, partly salt.

But this vision is a spectactle no mortal man dare to see
Lest he would wish to fall prey to and join it eternally

While God only knows if this world, for me, might be heavenless
'Tis my mad macabre dance I am left with to leaven this

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Comments (2)

I LOVE this one. Not opnly because I play the violin but it really just sings to me. Awesomely done! Lylyanna
Thanks, I'm glad Somebody noticed this one. It's really a fave of mine, but lost like tears in rain.