For Edgar Poem by Eric Paeplow

In quiet repose he sat, the hush of silence filled the room
His thoughts unbroken, the silence stoked only by ashen embers
Floating gently by, like so many specters lurking in the shadows
Only to expire and scatter their ghosts upon the floor

His offering, mere expressions of the depths of his reflection
Soliloquies of the soul his greatest gift, brought forth unto the page
To entrap the rapture in hearts, overwhelmed by their splendor
Lost in the eloquence, a feast for the eyes, food for the soul

Hearth and heart his only inspiration, his mistress and muse
The glimmer of the flame, shimmering against the darkened room
Alights the very depths of his consciousness, and freed his soul
Left to soar above it all, in the ethereal plain, where clarity reigns

Tortured by life, yet a more beautiful mind you will not find
Alone with his splendor, alone with his pain
The words brought forth, told of love and loss, exuberance and ruin
Yet through it all, the ink met the page, the pose exposed,

How fortunate are we...