Tomorrow's Dirge

I heard tomorrow’s dirge today,

and passed it through my ear

It was the blackest tone, to which

black shades could not compare

I was steadfast through crescendos

at the peak of day’s decrease,

but I shattered, when the eulogists

spun grayscale frequencies.

The mourners, suffering silently,

in consonance, and I

felt spirits quake beneath the ground,

and passion rock the sky

It was the tremors in the air

that brought me to my knees;

and brought to tears, when I witnessed

words that shook the seas.

Then the waves of black retreated

restfully in tune,

and I caught a passing chance to grieve

beneath a rosewhite moon

The words recapitulated

and then they came to cease,

and when I’d grieved sufficiently,

I knew their final peace.