The Silent Quill

a grated gate in midnight's light
once fell upon a sorry sight
as rain washed out the scarlet stain
the skies bowed down to hear the pain

a voice without a body heard
the sordid tale its waist did gird
one witness found, torn leaf by leaf
Creation's glory sank to grief

a tale no word was writ nor said
into the ground the silence bled
a soaked and orphaned quill remains
fraught with want of trilled refrains

a poet's tome thus lay ungathered
whispy strands of dreams untethered
so Heaven cried its tears that night
set up the quaich by candlelight