Veritas

[Eira]

      Veritas

The Wind wound round countless knells
And whistled through the withered oaks
Wending past the graveyard bells
He weaved under olden bridges

He roared with wrath over frore shores
And darted through the welkin
He nestled in the deepest moors
And whipped wild forests round

He halted at the stony steps
At the foot of a forbidden land
He grazed the sky which held the stars
And carried away sand

He blew over shards of glass and rock
To slither up the stairs
He traveled through worlds of fire and thunder
That the earth forever bears

He died down to a subdued lull
Upon reaching the unknown
He gently pressed against the skulls
Of men that had dared to go

He swept through the lock of infinity
Not needing keys to pass the door
He escaped the dark of Ewigkeit
And ventured to aeternal Night

[Kryson]

Beautiful... but it sounds familiar.  Who are your poetic influences?

[Eira]

hmmm.....Poe, Lovecraft, Milton, Dante, Shiel, Machen...various bands I listen to...and of course, myself

[Kryson]

Somehow I expected Persey Bysshe Shelley to be amoung those. 

[Eira]

never even heard of him  o_O

[Sara]

I haven't heard of Milton, Sheil, Machen, or Persey Bysshe Shelley. I think I win....

[Kryson]

Percy Shelley was Mary Shelley's husband... she was the author of Frankenstein.

Here's a poem by Percy Shelley:

REMORSE

by: Percy Bysshe Shelly (1792-1822)

AWAY! the moor is dark beneath the moon,
Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even:
Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon,
And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven.
Pause not! the time is past! Every voice cries 'Away!'
Tempt not with one last tear thy friend's ungentle mood:
Thy lover's eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy stay:
Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.
 
Away, away! to thy sad and silent home;
Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth;
Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come,
And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth.
The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine head,
The blooms of dewy Spring shall gleam beneath thy feet:
But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds the dead,
Ere midnight's frown and morning's smile, ere thou and peace, may meet.
 
The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose,
For the weary winds are silent, or the moon is in the deep;
Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows;
Whatever moves or toils or grieves hath its appointed sleep.
Thou in the grave shall rest:--yet, till the phantoms flee,
Which that house and heath and garden made dear to thee erewhile,
Thy remembrance and repentance and deep musings are not free
From the music of two voices, and the light of one sweet smile.

[Eira]

that really is good

[Kryson]

I thought you might like him. 

I have a movie to suggest for you, too.  It's a really weird horror movie from 1987 called Gothic. 

From Reel.com:

Hallucinatory, fantastical retelling of night in 1816 when "Frankenstein" and "The Vampyre" were written. Very offbeat period piece may please literary lovers, art house fans more than horror genre buffs.

Mary, Persy, Mary's sister, and the author of "The Vampyre" (can't remember his name offhand... no, not Bram Stoker) spend a VERY strange night together at Lord Byron's castle.  While I don't know if it's true or not, this movie poses a possible reason "Frankenstein" was written.  Very interesting and well worth the old special effects for those more literary minded... especially those familiar with the works of Mary Shelley, Persy Shelley, the guy that wrote "The Vampyre" and Lord Byron.

[Kryson]

His name was John Polidori.

[Eira]

awesome