The Lady Who Begets Whispers

As I sit and watch you,
I can hear your breath gasping hope in harmony
Reciting in time
As the machines ever mock me.
Look at you.
Waiting for the hand of death,
To take you across the river,
Where the doves will sing of sorrow,
And the Ravens will shed their goodbyes
upon the midnight morrow.
So how can it be I'm this lonely
With everything I've seen?
What hope is there for me,
When I've seen the death of everything?

Everything.

Obscene a word that I've ever heard,
Chokes poison in my throat,
Even as you lay there
So helpless and alone.
But who am I who ponders these things
In my selfish contempt,
While your sweetness turns to rot
And your light glows ever dim?

The candle burns so slowly.
And who will I become,
In the absence of your certainty?
What will become of the builder,
Of the sick and hopeful starving?

Come back to me.

Is this really a better place?
You will sing whispers to the dead,
And haunt the shores of the forgotten.
You will be a friend to specters
And a mother of nightmares.
You will be a shadow of life,
And the heart of loss.
But you will forget my sound.
And our voice will fade.
You will forget the heart
Of everything we made.
What a gift that must be,
One that I must admit I covet.
How fortunate are you
That this burden has found its summit.

But I will carry it.

As memories turn my taste to ash,
And time sours my hearts dying mind,
I will carry you with me
My lady at the end of time.