Haunted Lunacy Poetry

So sad and lonely, / my heart, it does ache me so, / weeping in the dark.

No inspiration, / the muse, she does weep for me, / tears of silent ink.

The angels fell silent, not a sound in heaven  was made, for her footsteps were approaching, and she  was far more beautiful than they. With wings that span from sea to sea, to her fiery eyes the sun does bow, God himself on bended knee, his creation had outdone him somehow. In the distant fog her silhouette grew, and on the wind her song could be  heard. All of heaven covered their ears, lest they be destroyed by just one word. From the mist she did emerge , no greater beauty could there ever be, than in the presence of the angel fair, the sweet goddess of misery.