The First And Last

In the library of a thousand shadows
There's one that lies dauntless, uncrucified.
Its a darkness that wakens each awful night,
And bellows never to the world, but sighs.
His wings are made of paper-dust,
And those claws are actually quill pens
To all who come across this shadow,
They bow their heads and duly attend.
For every last testement and every last will,
Is written in his legendary leather tome,
Every last word spoken by every evil man,
Whether they died abroad or at safe home.
This is the Shadow of Last Silence, my dear,
And his task is to write down the last of all,
All sins and good wishes are all cast aside,
To find the last action, state or triumphant call.
The pages of the library books flutter,
They chime to the music of the night,
Taking in the depth of each one shadow,
They hum together, then take flight.
The shadows then go with them all,
All thousand wraiths of sable dark black,
Flying into the nightime savage dank air,
To escape from the gates, feed, then come back.
But one shadow remains within library walls,
Watching all else go outside to eat and dine,
And he waits to see his love of light return,
When the sun rises to bring day and shine.
For his love is the Light of First Noise divine,
Her voice is the song of angelic beasts above,
And she is glory born living, pure, blest,
And as First and Last they are, incarnate Love.