The Tale of Arnison Wake

No few words can be said for Arnison Wake
brought too soon to the grave by the madness of fate
for it seems that poets suffer noblest in faith.
His requiem bequeathed, to the abruptly deceased
by his brides belief, in a murderer's deed.

His demise the enigma of the truest sublime
unable to solve and credulity defied
for when the buried, unburied; there's no body to find.
What reasons await, or in miracles create
the horrifying fate of Arnison Wake.

Indeed there were questions of the missing's last ends
such the state and condition the casket was in
and the remnant of scratches from someone's two hands.
With proof so profound, there never a doubt
instead of the way down, they were burrowing out.

Sunlight declining many days soon would pass
alibis inquired and suspicions amassed
the guilty determined by the evidence they had.
It appears they could trace, the dispatcher of hate
and what had became of Arnison Wake.

Arnison's death was at the hand of a friend
a fellow poet whose name was Ferguson Wynn
whose life had suddenly come to an end.
It was there on the ground, on the outskirts of town
his body lie bound, with no head to be found.

So all would believe this happened by chance
what infamy was suffered to circumstance
events that irony could hardly withstand.
Occasioned in strange, though twisted by fate
the truth steered blame to Arnison Wake.

When revisiting the coffin to check it again
there Arnison Wake lied interred within
and in his grasp the head of Ferguson Wynn.
For we can't comprehend, what our maker intends
so it seems that the dead, may return for revenge.