My Edgar of the forevermore verses, as the flight of the hunting bats begin into the chilling star-flecked twilight, I rejoice the ages cannot separate my devotion to you, the deepest catacombs of my dark mind testifies of my mourning's timelessness, it tolls of a melancholy in my psyche that resounds stronger than the cathedral bells of a slow, slow dirge, of ebony plumes on ageless black horses as they pull the carriage bearing the casket in the dusky funerary procession, Edgar, is this your funeral, or mine? Your wracked spirit always in your eventide life's penning of madness, of hauntin