|1849 "Annie" daguerrotype of Poe courtesy of site|
The stress and burden of this guilt as well as the anxiety of attempting to make a successful writing career for himself and potentially effect a marriage with various women eventually consumed him along with alcoholic binges and mysterious illnesses. He was found lying in a Baltimore gutter delirious and under great duress. Poe was transported to Washington Medical College where he died four days later. His cause of death was occluded; the truth has yet to materialize. Indeed, the mysteries that he had confronted during his lifetime brought him to an early and lonely end. To this day, his death is steeped in speculation and one author has posited that Poe was a diabetic and was in a diabetic coma when he was found. Along with his brilliant unparalleled poems, criticisms, novels and short stories, this mystery infuses his ethos as romantic and adds to the mystique of one of the grandest and most globally beloved American writers.
The mysteries of the world writ large
Upon your soul as deep as darkness' sea.
Your prescient being over wrought and charged
With quantifying consciousness. To free
Your loving cousin to communicate
In ethers, time warps stretching toward the stars,
Bending spirits within altered states,
You'd bring her close to you who was so far.
The gulf of death you crossed; scorned mortal shores.
Alone upon the waves of time and light
You drove your words and thoughts and hope restored
Continued through life's hellish days and nights.
And then your soul's cruel wanderings did cease.
Joined with your love eternal in Christ's peace.
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