The Forlorn

An old man stares through the window pane The cold wind is Swaying the long grass The man sits on a chair resting his Weary legs Weakness reflects from his withered skin He is praying for strength and mercy Silent Devotion flows around him The wall i

The freezing rain ceases to fall on earth The raindrops Glitter like stars through the leaves The man leans against A high cliff side And mutters alone in an echoing deep Voice The man recalls in madness The past of bleak Oblivion The figment of into

The man beholds the valley beneath him And stares at the beauty of his last sunset The light drifts away beyond the horizon The shadows grow longer with the wind The man looks at the light that withers away And feels the cold that veils his dark, fal

The yellow leaves fly with the wind Covering the graves below The willow The old man stands in the doorway Wiping his Eyes with soiled sleeve He kneels at the foot of the Graves And touches the time-worn epitaph Blessed are the Pure in heart, For the

The pale shadows flickered on the wall Offering a refuge from the dismal glance The man sat at a table with his hands crossed And muttered a blessing in a drunken stupor The somber room reeked of oppressive piety Spreading the disease of divine hypoc