Late one night I lay awake,
The storm it battered and blew,
When suddenly, over the lake,
A strange thing flew.
On four silvered wings of finest silk,
It graced the winter winds,
And through my window it smoothly spilt,
And gently spread its fins.
I saw this creature lying there,
And thought to trap this holy flight,
Because of gold and money fair,
Did I upon conclusion slight.
I reached to cage this weirdest thing,
Then suddenly it turned to rage,
It struck at me with an angry sting,
Then, like a bee, fell dead upon the stage.
And coloured lights upon my eyes,
Did play stranger patterns too,
A baby dragon, dying, its plaintive cries,
Did fly around the skies dark blue.
Till dawn I saw this terrible show,
Then soon the apparition went,
And the horror of the thing began to grow,
And all my soul was spent.
The sin of the thing I'd done came true,
I'd dare not move an inch,
If the devil himself came flying through,
For fear of God I'd dare not flinch.
The rotting angel lay heavy now,
On my conscience as it did the floor,
So I drew the rope down over my brow,
And hung 'till I'd breath no more.
Yet still my torture would not stop,
For soon the demons came,
And quick enough, undid the knot.
And cast me down into burning flame.
And even there it did not end,
Yet more was planned for me,
No sooner would my memory mend,
Than upon the floor the creature'd be.
Ten thousand million days and nights,
Clear'd not these horrible things,
'Till, suddenly, with all my might,
I cried forgiveness for my sins.
Ten thousand million years passed,
Yet still not a breath or word came in,
My torture for eternity'd last,
For my greed and selfish sin.
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Comments about this poem (River Angel by Zak Pearce )
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