O’ Aldebaran, whose crimson aura
Burns through dusk and bleeds unto dawn,
O’ Aldebaran, whose hum is that
Of crying embers that bellow from the kiln forth,
O’ Aldebaran, whose lofty force warps, spins,
And twirls the gossamer of all space,
O’ Aldebaran, whose geysers pierce
The unfathomed vistas betwixt places of grey;
We, denizens of Earth, forgotten echoes
To the recall of your sidereal flame,
We, shackled by the manacles of flesh
And the funereal procession of passing time,
We, of the stars but lacking the lustre therein,
Kin to the wind of your wine-hued breath,
We, dim mortals of multiform thought,
Prayers of prostrate-pleads, beseech one thing,
O’ sphere of red death:
When above the black gulfs droop, and pour midnight
As from the Creator’s ink vat of interminable depth;
When the meadows of emerald-tinted petals
Wilt, weep, and crimp, reduced to ashen soot;
When the titanic sierras crumble
And great snow-swathed peaks pelt the frozen tundra;
When with unceremonious and sudden flight
The beauty of earthly memory soars from us far flung;
We ask, Aldebaran, with your body of blazing ruby,
And with your cauldrons of infernal blood;
That when you embrace us with your livid columns
Of broiling demise, you tenderly peer into our hearts and minds
And remember who peopled the rock you consume.
We, who forth from your womb once sprung;
We, who now you beckon towards the final infernal void, ask
That you hear our name.
Freddy is an English major with a concentration in Creative Writing. He is an ardent fan of Romantic poetry, Weird fiction, and Horror fiction. He prefers short stories or novellas for they are conducive to his attention span. If he is not writing, reading, playing video games, or making music, then he is probably eating a bowl of cereal.