No Hable

I... Guess It can be called a sequel to the comer.

He came for me once,

Quite long ago,

And ever since then,

Near steady as snow.

 

He gave me the word,

The gift,

The curse,

Grinning with false laughter,

But laughing with real mirth.

 

So many years since then are done,

But the smallest time has hardly begun,

Smoldering, what have I become?

From place to place, I'm never done.

 

Truth will come,

But death still decides,

Candles go out, As darkness ever rides.

Author's Note

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