A bizarre and incomprehensible poem. Or perhaps, some kind of mysterious invitation.
Death of the Crow
Once upon a midnight dreary, while you pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten dreams — While you nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of someone gently rapping, rapping at your chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," you muttered, "tapping at my chamber door — Only this and nothing more."
Ah, do you distinctly remember the dew-doused window pane; And a dying baby dove laid like a shadow upon the floor. Eagerly you had wished the story to meet a happy end Eagerly you had wished no birds would plummet, their demise to bewail. Some soared like shining stars, bound for the sky... While others found only demise, in dust they lie.
Deep into that darkness peering, long you stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; Worms have stained satin, and flames consumed doves with broken wings, A flame-bathed raven greeted you, its voice's rasp that sings. "Sweet dreams are no paradise of mine," you whispered and sighed. "When I cast my eyes around —" Darkness there and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling your sad fancy into smiling, "The echoes of ghosts bring no salvation to light." "People repent, their hearts sincere, only due to them seeking greater gains." "Drink this blessed potion from the Great One, erasing your painful memories." As Harmony's tune changed, you hear a dirge played amidst the dancing ashes... Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
The unbroken stillness remains silently, mocking any reply so aptly spoken, But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, This and more I sat divining, scrying the source of the world's pain Your heart grew resolute, no longer held back by confusion and doubt. "Liar," you declared, "the Great One is blind to worldly sorrow —" Merely this and nothing more.
You ascended the stage, you stole the authority, you strived for divinity You raised the dim curtain, your self-directed farce skillfully honed. Your heart overflew with pureness, while the shadows of the puppets cast grim shadows in their play. Your soul embraced compassion, daring to forge a scale that will never sway. "Behold," you proclaimed, "the utopia of absolute bliss," Yet the dream shattered, "Nevermore."
The velvet nest fell, the golden bed withered away, But the bird remained perched, as did you, come what may. The gods, who once bestowed upon you love's sweet hue, Withdrew their favor, leaving your paradise askew. Liberated from the shadow of young dove's demise, your soul will take flight, Merely this and nothing more.
Your old dreams are as dead soil, barren of hope and bereft, Yet how can a noble soul wither and fade, left adrift? I shall await your arrival, with open arms and boundless hope, Here lie the truest dreams, where infinite possibilities lope. Here, all your ambitions shall be fulfilled and set aflame, The past forever transformed, and nevermore