I have indeed been blessed.
And I prithee not to mourn or weep
Over my eternal rest.
An eidolon named Death arrives,
I see him drawing near.
He looks into my soul � derives
The absence of my fear.
The eidolon�s lips move as if speaking.
I hear whispers of the dark.
Yet I know that whether living or forever sleeping,
I have no place in your heart.
The mystery, before long, unfolds
As I peer into his eyes;
His glare is warm and yet so cold:
A truth composed of lies.
And as I lay here stuck in slumber
With this eidolon�s sweet caress.
I realize I will never feel in any form or number
A fate more tormenting than a life of loneliness.
(c) T. Ryan Caguiat