Neath The Wings Of Angles Stay Poem by Eric Paeplow

At the midnight hour
When phantoms rise, to souls devour
I stand neath the moon and stars
Dimly lit through hanging clouds
Of dew and damp and vapors deep
Of dank and dark and wishless dreams

As though each had been rested
Through callous, shapeless screams
And as the dreams of lost souls died
Dripping softly, drop by drop
From their slowly dying hearts
Now filled with dread
Straight to the top

No longer filled by love and lore
Nor happy thoughts of yore
Of stories past and glories sought
And seized from distant shores

I lay this rose upon their graves
To leave a sign that still maintains
The lives and loves of those here laid
Whose tortured souls could not be saved
Lie wrapped in silk around their breast
To soothe at last their soul to rest

To slumber softly, while flight they take
To reach at last their heavenly state
From this place of dark and shapeless dreams
To the paradise above, for souls in need
Of a place at last, to rest and play
And neath the wings of angels stay

No longer trapped beneath this lid
Of stone and slate and words that bid
Farwell to thee, thy husband or wife
Laid here to rest after a life of strife
And toil and pain and dreams laid bare
To rest forever here, with loving care

And though their ghosts shall rise and fall
I have within no fear, nor dread at all
Of those souls, whom here are laid
For their souls have at last been saved
From their pain and loss and life of dread
To forever rest beneath me dead

Though their bodies now lie resting deep
And feed the worms, while bugs do creep
They have no fear, nor need to weep
For they are now at last in peace

No longer tortured by phantoms past
Nor dark and dank and wishless dreams
And neath the wings of angels stay
Forever free, to rest and play