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Ambrose C Madden

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Elegy on the Edge
by Ambrose C Madden

Thursday, January 24, 2008
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Ambrose C Madden
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           >> View all 13

Elegy on the Edge

Itís silent, dark and cold out here;
My air is running out.
I may seem numb, but it is fear
That plays with all the doubt
I have, that Iíll survive the night.

The hope I had, an hour ago,
Lost power to suppress
The fears and rage that ebb and flow
Through torrents of distress,
But will not end its futile fight.

The stars that shine unblinking now,
Will shine when I am gone,
Unheedful of the desperate vow
I made my final dawn,
In brilliant beams of useless light.

Iím calmer now than I have been,
Awaiting my last breath;
No further help will come from men
To stave off coming death;
Theyíve no more power to ease my plight.

I wait in awe of what I see,
The vastness that is space,
Unable to wish I could be
In some more fitting place
To die, than here upon this height.

No magic waits to be employed;
No weapon here unsheathed,
Can long extend what Iíve enjoyed

Copyright © 2007 Ambrose C. Madden

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