Her Name - Serendipity Poem by Orin MSH

In a tattered frame, her face does show
The lines of strife and secret sorrow
By the ancient, wormy sea,
Fair maiden's beauty spoken from long ago
Her name, a cryptic word: Serendipity; -
For she lived to be as though eternity
Has loved her greater than anything could.
There was never a child nor cherub ever so pure,
By the primeval, wandering sea,
And we made to its end our sole endeavor-
Alone with Serendipity-
To push through the limits of the heavens above
And seize her earnestly-begotten love.

Was there ever rhyme or reason, to forgo,
The kingdom by waves high and low,
Out on the precipice and the spindrifts
Turning captive fair Serendipity;
Muting her voice, shutting her dreams
Until the darkness bore her away
And buries her in the grieving vault
Who should we blame, who's to fault
In this realm of specters, unholy spirits
Congregate in Milton's Paradise Lost
O for what gains and at what cost?
Where cold is to touch as losing one's love
Were there ever angels in the high abode?
And the waters above shook the firmament
Ending all psalms and saint-like melodies
Igniting fires and spreading maladies
Trailing in this shadowy realm, His Kingdom none
Till shrieks and squalls of banshees become one
Snuffing out her light, O Bright Serendipity!

But never was there love as deep and as wide
As the gods and titans in these dusty tomes
Far mightier and colossal in their vast stature
From great mountains where their dominion loom
Mount Olympus and Caelum below them cower
And neither demons of woeful gloom
Nor the seraphs high up heaven's spire
Will make me let go of my great hold
On Serendipity's pure unrivalled soul

Fair weather and fairer climes do grace
The emptied galleries and gilded hallways
After the tempest rages to the end of our days
When no sun burns, the trees will no more sway
Their flowers and fronds will never inch away
The pollen and the bees asleep in the darkness
Near the fringe of despair - O Cold Desolation!
All shades blow out the light that would remain
In reveries deep down fantasies where we live
Out our time to think, to ponder and not to grieve
With memories few and far between, no breaths
Nor fears that lie beneath this sunless world could reach

Can the moon still shine in her darkest dreams?
Until she mistook its lies as gleams
Of paradise, far Eden left in oldest whims
Of stars and comets in the cosmic eyes
That gaze intently, the perpetual night alone
In solitude, the endless realms to roam
Until your scent awakens me, I will lie here
And stay till what was built with devotion
And ardor crane to the rain-bowed clouds
Her behemoth sprung from dark seeds -
Sprouting by the sand of this wordy sea
Where none would ever be as worthy
For our remembrance as she.
(Based On The Metre Of Annabel Lee by Edgar Allen Poe)

(Orin MSH: 3 January 2023)