Mid-July, I remember the dismal display

The pinnacle of our emotional array

Was in that dismal display that I found a sanctuary of sorts

A distant calling from some distant port

Deviant of lost wonder and hope

Left to dangle by the hangman's rope

I remember the dismal Mid-July noon

Ignorant and naive a sleeping buffoon

"To what misfortune do I owe this recollection?"

"This painful loss of suicidal perfection."

The words come as illusion or dream

Decadently gloomy and vaguely obscene

Can I help this mind locked within the tomb?

Helpless as a child perched in a mothers' womb

I remember the redness of that pagan sky

On that most dismal night of Mid July

We became one with the dangler on the rope

A memory of the one dangling from the rope

A lighted fire and ominous song

As we dragged the soul from what was strong

We watched the sky, singed with tainted fear

Cry out the skies; ashed with the sear

I walked from a shadow into the night

Shaken from the omniscient light

Burdened with the songs of dying life

Unforgiven of sins long tormented in strife

I caressed the pinnacle of emotional array

I longed to live; I longed to love; I longed to stay

"Taste of the wicked intervention dejected soul."

"And be gone by the seventh bells' toll."

I felt to inhale prolific vanity from the night

My shadow wept in that early morn light

A distant voice carried the din of the cathedral bell

"You must be gone; returned to the brimstone of hell"

"Where all things are seared by the eves' sun"

I would never again lay witness to that horizon

Again it rises and I have held firm by the gallows pole

Prey of the vultures I hear the seventh toll

![church-3058372_640.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmVKFBRGcSVJQxwkknDUemRfcsAc3xhC9TBiDLUx9qYtmJ/church-3058372_640.jpg) Image: Pixabay.com