My Tale I Can Not Tell by Wade H Myles at

My Tale I Can Not Tell

My Tale I Can Not Tell

written by: Wade H Myles


I awoke that morn with sleeping eyes,
My ocular allowance, desensitized.
My assessments whirred with chaos,
And my sinew felt ostracized.

For moments I stood in silence.
No sound to break my trance gained entrance.
I listened more, yet nothing chimed,
Not bell, nor rat, nor flie’s winged cadence.

So sighing, I stepped in marching fashion,
Marveling slight at this new condition.
My vision never came fully accrued,
But I pressed forward with knightly passion.

I roamed the halls in years simile,
It’s grandiose still holding divinity,
Each marble pillar and granite arch,
Marked by cross and Godhead Trinity.

Nothing new to be seen or heard,
But my thoughts still bothered and whirred.
This deafening silence seemed quite off,
And no other vagrants seemed absurd.

No waltzing maid or bowing squire,
No torch lit, nor Guard’s gilded attire,
So peculiar, twas quite bizarre.
Reasons for which, I’d yet to acquire.

Seeming decades passed with my search,
Upon every nook, cranny, and perch,
Yet no other being did I find.
Then my sinking heart made a lurch.

It was then, upon that hallowed ground,
My realization became profound,
But I shook it off as untruth
And began again to look around.

Each wing and flight of stair,
No beautied maiden, fine or fair,
No king, nor queen, or hair-brained jester,
No single soul in bed or chair.

At such time, tears beckoned to be cried,
And nothing could make that soon subside.
I sat alone, spoke no words at all,
For none would hear if I cried.

I remembered then what had transpired.
A pain in breast had made me tired,
And so I laid to obtain some rest,
For I thought twas all that was required.

Sleep I found, but not in fleshly host.
I raise this goblet, to Grim, I toast,
Who’s hands took mine in that final waltz,
And made me roam these halls, a ghost.

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