Once, upon a day of quiet rapture,
I upon a sofa lay in need to capture
a silent peace, for my mind was uneased
by the blowing, howling of the night wind,
by the growling of the harsh wind.

As I lay staring passionlessly upon
the logs and ember of the raging fire,
I began to remember the terror brought on
by the rapturous call of desire.
This I pondered as upon my door blew woe's wind.
As I wondered, a chill blew from woe's wind.

Quietly, my mind began to wander,
silently wishing for the day to begin.
But, the kept on growling as I pondered
at how grim its howling was from within.
How grimly a voice sounded with the wind.
How ominous a cry called among the wind.

A shriek and a saddened sigh
brought my fright to a new high.
Long I peered at the looming shadows,
fearing what could be contained within.
Believing it was calling me to go,
hoping and praying that it wouldn't come in,
wishing far away that howling wind,
wishing surcease of that growling wind.

A creak and shriek and I was up off my chair.
Bristling, wishing away the whispering.
Oh, how could this sound be in the air?
Why did it speak and leave me tortured within?
A name, familiar, had spoke the wind,
my name in terror had cried the wind.

Semi-silent, with my heart beating still,
I stood, trying to muster my will.
I sighed, then cried out from a full blown shriek,
as though angered blew that wretched wind,
as though hungered blew that vicious wind.

"Oh, quiet please," I cried, "your beckoning,
oh, harsh wind, has no reason, has no claim upon me.
So why try to startle me from within?"
There I listened, awaiting the harsh, quieting wind.
I trembled, wishing for the silencing of the wind.

Quieted was the wind, an eerie silence
resounded through the entire room.
Eerie was its impending doom.
"Oh must I live through it again?"
My voice a tad bit quieter than the wind,
with my heart pounding as I spoke,
"Must it bring out what I hold within?
Must it spook me into revealing my sin?"

All was silent as I stared long at the gloomy stairs
which seemed to spring upon me from nowhere.
Slowly, I stepped towards the staircase,
deciding upon a sanguine sleep
to prepare for tomorrow's rapid pace.
Then I walked up the stairs, and the wind began again.

Louder, more vicious than before,
stirred that wind upon my door, and
broken window glass lay upon my floor.
And from the shattered shards blew the strong wind.
From the broken glass blew that rabid wind.

In terror I rushed up those stairs,
searching for safety on my bed.
But memories from the past fluttered back and stared
at me from the bed, a memory which the wind led.
"Wretched shadow, you're but a memory locked within,
just a memoir of a time since gone like the wind!"

Then, when it seemed like the wind was abated,
came a gust strong enough to push me upon the floor.
A gust and gale strong enough to leave me stagnated,
as the wind kept on unaided again and again,
as invigorated blew that harsh wind.
Bated blew that guilty terror within.

"It was so long ago, a year since
I saw sorrow that made me wince."
My voice surprised me and the room.
"I never did commit such a sin!
I've done nothing to anger the wind!"

'Falsehood!' My soul cried, 'You lying brute!
How can you hide so much truth and shame?'
Guilt and terror choked my soul at its root.
"Oh God, how can I truthfully claim
that I haven't angered your servant wind?
That I haven't enraged the watchful wind?"

"Alas! But it was so long ago,
when death had come to claim a victim.
How can grief now cause me sorrow?
It was death's poison that bit them,
I was but an observer like the wind.
I was just a bystander like the wind."

'You know,' seemed to cry the shadows, but
I didn't get how it could beget in me such fright
like this. How could- then I knew, the wind
had found my guilt and now tormented me from within.

"I know, oh God, oh damn it all!
I admit my wrong and sin of murder.
But the maiden was not that pure overall."
This I revealed, and then I went on to murmur,
"I brought her wrong, that I know was a sin,
but if I could I would do it all over again."

Swiftly, the storm blew ever faster around me,
entrapping, shrouding me within its curtain.
"All right! All right! But this can't be my destiny!
I have done wrong, I confess, but be certain
this mishap which happened was not of my doing, not my sin!
It was the outcome of a demon's anger hidden within!"

The wind did not answer me, but the shadows did,
surrounding me, drowning me within
their tempest wrath. Out of the room I tried and hid,
but they followed me, and who joined but the wind.
Both joined to watch me shrivel with sin.

Rushing to the steps I, defiant, turned to face
my enemy that surrounded me, in case
that it would lunge. Staring back to the fireplace
my mind wandered yet again, pondering my sin.
The shadows crept and all I recall was the wind.
The shadows pushed me as all around blew that wind.

On the morrow two men proceeded in session,
carrying a broken corpse to the procession
of mourners dressed in black. In a passion
the storm the night before had shattered what had been.
Broken had been laid a body in which life left from within.

All that was left was silence and a confession
written in blood on shards of broken glass,
"It was I, I who ended their lives of passion.
But pity me for I can't help what's passed,
though if I could I would do it all over again."