Paying homage to Poe's "The Raven" written in a 1990's perspective.

Once in a daydream, while I dare, calm and thoughtful,
over every sound and creaking of lonely room--
While I thought, nearly smiling,
there came a notion,
As of shadows planting, telling tales at my ear.
"Ah, some vision," I shuddered, "Giving encouragement in my ear. Only voices and ghostly winds."
Ah, wistfully I recall the touch, and each vision placed a mark on the brow.
Fearfully I dreamed the dreamer; hopefully I had inspired
From my ache for knowledge--
Knowledge for the lost dreamer,
For the gift and beauty the mind named dreamer--
Wasted here in shadows.
And the laced, quiet, fearful tread of each golden vision
Touched me, gave me with ideals not felt before;
So to each, to my very breathing, I sat recalling,
"It's a dreamer entering the soul's chamber,
Some dreamer entering the soul's chamber,
That is wasted here in shadows."
Slowly my mind grew bolder, restless no longer,
"Dreamer," I questioned, "or ghost, your summons I heard.
But being in fantasy, and so quickly you came,
And in vision you came whispering,
Whispering at my ear, that I didn't know you--here I looked--
Shadows there and lost words."
Back to the vision looking, all sounds within me churning,
Soon I heard the whispers stronger than before.
"Crazy," I said , "crazy that there is something in my mind,
Let them enter, then, what will be will be,
and my vision explained--
"It's a dream and only shadows bored!"
With open eyes I searched the room,
When with a cold handshake,
In the doorway a tall dreamer of predestination stood,
Not afraid was he, not a blink of eye gave he;
But with a grace born of angels, swaying in the breeze,
Swaying above the floor, and not a word.
Then the dreamer touched me smiling,
By the sweetness of virtue it wore,
"Thought you are a dreamer," I said, "Are you no devil;
Trying grimly to steal my soul from above,
Tell the truth about your works!"
Said the Dreamer, "I was and I am."
Much I heard from this disclaimer so softly uttered,
Though the answer had no meaning,
little truth was found,
For I could not explain the dreamer,
Even how I came to hear the whispering at my ear,
Devil or Saint whispering in my ear,
Nothing said except, "I was and I am."
But the dreamer, swaying on the breeze, was silent.
That quiet disturbing, as if I could guess all from those words.
Nothing further spoken--not a question did he ask--
Until I managed to utter, "Strangers have said more to each other."
On empty dreams he will leave,
As my mind chooses to awake,
Then the dreamer said, "I am forever you."
Surprised by the firmness in the words so softly whispered.
"Useful," I said, "what I hear are only empty words,
Caught in the web of time whom all have digested
Followed in rhyme, followed by prose until the mind rings out in nightmares,
Until the bones of men hold their curse of
"I am--forever you."
But the dreamer still touched my heart into lightness,
Dazed, I remained adrift in room and breeze and dreamer;
Then with guarded thoughts spoken, I lost of reason
Wonderment into fantasy, feeling something of the dreamer--
feeling this magic, music, poetry, love and enchanting dreamer of dreams--
Given in honesty, "I am."
There I sat thinking, no words spoken,
To the ghostly dreamer who touched my very soul;
This a fable and my mind with questions
on the dreamer's substance that the breeze blew hither,
But the dreamer's dream that the breeze blew hither,
He shall sing, "Oh, I am!"
Then I saw the vision weaken,
Changing into parts from words,
Floating in anguish above the walls,
"Angel!" I shouted, "Your sight you gave,
By your path all falls,
Quiet, quiet and grave from the days of old;
Give, Oh Give this lost soul answers and lose myself of old!"
Said the Dreamer, "I was and I am."
"Vision!" I said, "light of dawn! Dreamer awake, if angel or saint,
Whether angel be, or whether saint sent to stay at my ear,
Fearful yet all knowing, on this plane of confusion,
On a plane haunted by mortals; give me answers, I so truly beg,
Is suffering--is there suffering in the nether world?--answer me I beg!"
Whispered the Dreamer, "I was and I am."
"Vision!" I said, "light of dawn; Dreamer awake, if angel or
saint! By knowledge of many lives--by life we both know--
Tell me with another whisper if,
within the nether world,
Time shall give my soul the answers to this dreamer sent,
Touch this rare vision to this dreamer sent?"
Whispered the Dreamer, "I was and I am."
"Be your vision a token of death or horror!" I cried, vainly;
"Go back to quiet dreams and the blackness of nothing!
Stay no longer to tease my soul that is broken!
Stay no longer near this broken soul!"
Take all shadows from my room!
Take all visions from my mind, and take your whisperings from
my ear!"
Whispered the Dreamer, "I was and I am and I will always be your words!"
And the dreamer, swaying, remains a vision, stays swaying,
Silently swaying inside my mind,
And his whispering all remaining of his secret vision,
And cobwebs growing around his shadows in my room;
And I see my soul reflected in the swaying form--
coming back to me with words,
Always sighing--I am.