Epitaph For A Poet Poem by John Thorkild Ellison

No words, the blood from stone,
Eyes turned upwards sick with fear
And dead stars wandering briefly in a lost universe.
There is no courage left,
Chill fingers wrapped around my heart
Strangling the last little chance of hope.
Please set me free,
The lonely soul can only twist and choke,
Nothing remains but pointless, empty thoughts -
I might have dreamt of human love before,
But now the spirits of the dead rise up
And all I hear is corpses chattering
And in the darkness the whispering of my heart
And the long, slow clamour of endless tears.