Old Age - Sorrows of a Son

'As heavens drink me like wine with age, 

I feel my creator's hands turning me un-made,

A grim passion urges the acceptance of fate, 

As beloved as I, still trapped in this mortal cage.'

'Has there not been any way, other?

For that broken soul to find life matters?'

Say you, who doted upon that forsaken soul,

Yet you left him in the deepest of this Hell hole. 

Is it too cruel for one to speak lies, 

and end up amidst the smoking pyre?

I laid and thought of it every night,

Until it came to me that I should inspect my own shadow' lies.

I dare not say He would allow it,

But if the image of Hell was not so vivid,

And without leading examples to hasten the scale,

Even the most dedicated of Sheeps would fail, 

Could thee virtuous say thee has never been swayed ?

Nay, and ye shall never find the Light of Day,

Aye, and ye shall never find the Light of Day,

For thy exegesis contradicts the rules that have been laid.

I truly wish to speak names of those whom I inspired,

But how can I, when I do not know what has transpired ?

Their tales of faith, woven by tragedies and hate,

Drowned my soul with sorrows as my flames burn ever more hollow.

"Forgive me, Father, for those I could not inspire,

And for my own, for my faith, has faltered."

And thus end all those he could ever murmur, 

As another star is lost forever. 

--- And in the end, we are all sinners.

Written by Stu. T.H. (from Sep 5, 2023 ~ December 15, 2023), not out of love but obsession. 

Author's Note

... I found this as one of my older, unfinished work in Google Notes and without retaining most of the old sentiments from back in September, I wrote the rest of it, without questioning myself any further.