This is the Poem for the Forsaken

Sitting on the curbside of inspiration,
Where Two Roads Diverge in a Yellow Wood.
This is the Road Not Taken.
This is the poem for the forsaken.
Token for token, tear for tear,
Fear after fear, year after year.

This is the song of warning, of melancholy foreboding.
This is the dirge of the young Persephone.
Nightingale, Nightingale, is your song immortal still?
What of the one whose Name was Writ in Water?
Do you sing his dirges now?

Let's forget about the Odes now and the Elegies, so sad.
In Memoriam--Arthur Henry Hallam: you were the last they ever had...
I say, Let Us Go Then You and I as a Patient Etherized Upon the Table,
Like Stars Spread Out Against the Sky.  Let Us Go Then, You and I...

Stars Against the Sky: a battle of sparklers against the black fabric of the night.
Shooting tiny holes of light through the paper-thin tapestry.
Let's wonder why it doesn't fall on top of you and me.

Two Roads Diverged in a Yellow Wood. This is the Road Not Taken.
This is the Poem for the Forsaken...