The Revenant

'Twas this cold and murky December, within this ghastly day I remember,
As I sat thinking in an armchair of my chamber, by a window of that night,
When the might and main of the levin roar’d abruptly from the ire of heaven,
And the clock in the corridor struck eleven, bringing soon the midnight.
The world of the dormant dead, who swiftly awake unto the midnight—
I had perceiv'd a presence of death, entering my chamber blear.

Thereafter, the draperies startl’d to ruffle abating the prior placid muffle,
Rising with a sinister sizzling sparkle, from the fiery embers of the firelight.
And the whistling birr stirr’d the core of the confin'd hollow walls of yore,
Releasing on to the ceiling a villain of lore, lurking nigh behind the lamplight.
A vile wraith unbeknownst to me, who was lurking behind the lamplight—
E'er aware of the eerie noise that had raught my ear.

The burning embers had swoop'd down on the floor closing then my wooden door,
As the mysterious figure of malefaction slowly tower'd and was in sight.
I saw a phantom of my dirge, as I had quaff'd my nepenthe with an urge,
Behind the shadow that would emerge, standing there bold and upright.
Dauntless was the being that was standing so bold and upright—
For my heart beat faster, as peculiar echoes I could hear.

Thus before me was this Revenant shap'd from some ungodly covenant,
With ghostly white eyes peering, and a potent sable guise of sheer fright.
The vivid vestige of my doom, a living spirit in my room,
From the chasm of death and gloom came this being of affright.
To and fro I saw this indelible being of affright—
Was this an enigma yet to be solv'd and too unclear?

'Who art thou Devil haunting me now, with thy nefarious and stern brow?'
I ask'd the ghost of a bewitching hour, who sought to daunt me o'ernight.
'I am merely a fail'd composer and not a saintly imposer,
Begone at once and do not come closer, thou unbidden visitor of tonight.
For ne'er did I invite thee and hasten into those strong winds of tonight!'—
Alack, the restless tempest I hope shall disappear.

But the Revenant did not flit or fluster, amidst the chill and the bluster,
As I rose to my feet to confront him, in my posture of gallantry and fight.
And my voice became so broken, with murmurs of spirits who had spoken,
Knowing that the reaper unbroken sought his whims of a morbid delight.
The unmerciful master of illusion, whose whims were of a morbid delight—
And the reverberation of a knell was loud and clear.

'Art thou the Lord of the death knell, from the hideous and calamitous hell,
Who was fore’er trapp’d, in this Ophelian mansion of rakehells of blight?'
And these corridors to wander astray, are full of those wanton souls that stay,
Lorn in the perdition that men pray, shall ne’er bestow them with this sight.
The sundry spirits in perdition, who yearn to be rid of an appalling sight—
A procession of the souls that fade, in the 360 days of a year.

'Am I dead phantom of my unsettling nightmare, thou horrid incubus or mare?
Hast thou come for my soul to take, to the underworld thou shalt benight?
By the blazing brimstone of the raven, wherefore hast thou risen hoary craven,
Amidst the damnable throne of the haven of sinners of ominous birthright?'
Heinous is the palatial throne of the sinners of ominous birthright—
I betook myself to follow the stately wraith, closely in the rear.

Had my despair deviat'd me of a reality imposing this dreadful alterity,
With those mournful pitiful laments of the deceas’d of no merit or right?
The horrific clamours of death hark! The clammy mist of a silhouette so stark,
Then came the flashing orbs of a spark, and the presence of the revenant hight.
I saw beyond the hall, these flashing orbs of the revenant hight.—
The chamber door open'd, to the corridor that was clear.

I had hanker’d for a just reprieve, from this terror I did not want to believe.
'Perhaps, I am void of sanity, and my mind is lost in a light shone bright.
But I shall not yield to thy desire, as I shall thwart this ordeal grim and dire,
If only this wish I could acquire, I would call upon the seraphim of might,
Let this horror that I suffer ghost, be gone with the seraphim of might!’—
The rain of the tempest, suddenly drench'd upon my fear.

'Know that I shall not implore thee—with any mortal plea—Then take me!
For God or Devil standing, I shall not tarry any longer helpless I say wight!
But if I am taken, I shall be brazen to dare, as I am too weary of thy stare,
Get thee back to the baleful glare that shall quit into a fainting firelight!’
That abyss found within the glare that shall quit into the fainting firelight—
The clock struck six o'clock, as a noise of tenants I could o'erhear.

But the Revenant of no mortal name, bore not one token of earthly shame,
And was imbued endlessly, with the wonder of such impeccable eyesight.
Traversing that unknown course and fate predestin'd of an unnatural force,
As the troubl'd soul of the source, would be evict’d like the thief into the light.
At last, the pall of tribulation would be evict'd, like the thief into the light—
And the madness would end, taking the consternation once drear.

'Is it the immediate hour of my departing and my odyssey is starting,
Alive and drifting afterwards, within the forthcoming dawn of daylight?’
For I hear the resounding bells peal, drowning the pith of a frantic zeal,
From the haughty devils of a chthonic seal, reveal'd upon the fortnight.
Damn the greedy benefactors, who were reveal'd upon the fortnight,—
My salvation seen in the seraphim that durst to appear.

'O tell me—what shall I call thee ghost, my Cimmerian and wick'd host?
Shall I go straightway into the terrible embers of a burning flame alight?
Where shall my condemn'd soul rest then, beside this mortal world of men?
Shall my grave lie within the fen, with those who perish in their plight?'
The forsaken and exil'd reprobates, who had perish'd ere in their plight—
I had frett'd for a moment, as I felt a sense of yesteryear.

He quoth, 'I am the Revenant of the house, the fearful being mortals arouse!'
The only words spoken, before he had stepp'd back and then took flight,
When the window had shatter’d, and the sharp shards broken scatter’d,
And the red draperies tatter’d, as his accurst soul disappear’d forthright.
Swaying back and forth the draperies and a soul disappear'd forthright—
Into the superstition of believers, till his soul would reappear.

The seraphim emerg'd radiantly eternal, before the shrewd ghost infernal,
And his dominion of a visible murk was gleaming, after the orphic twilight.
When his spectral guise I then drew, immortalised in the winds that blew,
Unto the verge of the damping dew and the strange flickering night light.
I still recall that damping dew, and the sight of the flickering night light—
And the burning embers of the firelight that was near.
 

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