Acknowledging Edgar Allan (Poe)
Your heart, like the sounds of a lute, floats in the air. I hear your cries and descend.
Alone on horseback, I ride through your dreary country and approach your melancholy White House.
In the wholeness of this dull, dark day, clouds weep with pity upon your folly. Troubled in spirit, I sense cunning so wicked that poetic sentiment escapes me.
By the doings of this house, vacant-eyed windows, secret passageways, hidden cabals and soulless security spew opium’s most desolate after-dreams. I want to flee but again you cry. What mystery you ask of me!
There is no iciness, no sinking, sickening of the heart greater than to see a people welcome misery upon themselves. The very walls you fear, you make. The chains you despise, you willingly bind upon your wrists. You can expect no good end to this conflagration of heart, mind and action.
That for which you cheer approaches. The lute will turn away from you and the only sounds you will hear will walk towards you and the melancholy house will rule over you.
~ Stephen J. Bergstrom