Lykathea Aflame

On the high hill sits an old man his eyes are staring down... his mind is calm. His sight he will soon turn ot the sky in the while when the last page of that strange book he has finished reading. In the distance he hears the clear and ringing laught

His heart he offers them ...and they spurn. Then in silence and seclusion ...silently he weeps. However there is no one coming all along Who would wipe the tears from His careworn face away. And so with each brith of a day he gets up And sets forth t