He doesn't sleep and cannot speak
His eyes are shot, his breath is weak
The time surpassed him long ago
And even this he did not know
But there is something in his hand
It's not a ring or talisman
A faithful pulse, his beat of course
It's rather slow and losing force
Yet when he focuses his mind
He sees the things he could not find
Apart from him, away and far
The pinnacle of who we are
A birds eye view is just enough
To give him rest 'til he wakes up