The Tragedy Of Man Poem by Eric Paeplow

Upon this spot on starry night, I rest and wait in my latter years
For an angel throng, bewinged, in sight, in veils, and drowned in tears
Who've each one come to see, a play of woe, of hopes and fears
Of a life laid bare, of a life set free and of all whom I hold dear

While apparitions in the form of Gods, mutter and mumble low
And hither to and fro they fly; as more spirits come and go
As if to dance to the bidding, of vast and formless things
Each backlit by starlight, while held aloft by heavenly wings

Twas a sight- oh, how could I have wished for more
With my phantoms chased by angles, from this day forevermore
My circle now complete, I returneth to the self-same spot
And release my madness, sin and horror, upon my solitary plot

But see along my lonesome route, a solitary shape intrude
With eyes of fire and tattered cloak, he invades my solitude
My mortal soul and living flesh, becomes his immortal food
As with his sythe he takes my life, as my judgment day comes due

And as day descends, I reach my end and final curtain call
As morning breaks, the crack of thunder, heralds the coming storm
While the angels sang from pallid faces and my eternity began
An uprising, ghostly hymn, the tragedy, "Man"