SONG OF SILENCE
The passion of my heart runs deep
As wings of love ascend.
But silence will sing in due course,
To where it may extend.
For life is folly, time a foreboding,
Every dream must end.
I reach out with withered, wretched hands,
Frail and truly scarred.
To touch the amble forms of youth,
From which I have been barred.
Feeble and failing, weak and ailing,
Ambition, itself, comes marred.
As the autumn wind grows chilly,
The days grow short, the cold nights long.
I miss the humming of the fireflies,
And the nightingale's song.
The song, itself, diminishing
From a soul ever in wrong.
Over my shoulder I see a shadow,
A cloaked figure drawing near.
Walking slightly faster than me,
A scythe held high in hand, I fear.
Proof from the lords of agony,
The damned of earth stand beyond, drear.
But I close my eyes, no remorse or shame
For the pathway I have chose.
Nor for actions or words that may have come
Purely from emotion arose.
For emotion holds the only truth to me,
This dark world ever did expose.
Speak not my name beyond this day,
Long have I awaited its arrive.
Remember if you must, I stood for hope,
Even with none left to derive.
Yet even as hope went awry,
Remember even still I tried,
To be the best man I could be,
The one who this day, died.
For all behind was dark and drear,
And all before was night and fear.
How many hours of night or day
In those suspended pangs I lay,
I could not tell; I scarcely knew
If this were human breath I drew.