He draws that black cloak around him
Bears the elements to his stride
The nights air whispers the solace
That rides upon his form
Charging the air to the gloom, despair
That weighs heavy upon his brow.
The sad devested wisdom of the ages
dresses his hermetic, esoteric charm
cleaves stronger to his bone
Than any elixir of life.

A madman dressed to dejection
He bears the dreams of sorrows might
wanders the long lonely highways between
The realms of dream and reality.
Whistles upon the air
that sad lament of fallen grace
where once upon a merry time
In love he found his place
Held to the crack of smiles
the warm hearth of passion
Wore the flesh tint fashion
That gleamed from within his eyes.

Now deep, dark, hideous beings
flood between the iris and pupil
black dense clouds hover here
upon the twilight bridge of time
where fate hold his being eternal too
the loss of love like a demented fool
He strives his existence upon
the delicate rose, the words composed
Of love dead and gone.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph