What manner of man do you ask?
what dreams do you desire?
for summer has come all to late,
upon these lakes of fire,
what do you ask of me?
you stutter but no words usher from your lips,
should I leave you in your confused manner?
why old man do you not speak?

Has death left you your last supper?
is this your time to let go?
the lambing season has past,
no more do they bleat in their death throws,
why do you not speak?
I am willing to do your last bidding,
as you lay on grey sheets,
is your oak coffin your last fitting?

Speak to me now please,
for I have travelled far,
I am not a fatherless child,
no wise men to follow this star,
so what do you ask old man?
I know that your time is near,
what can I do to convince you,
that your passing of earth is here.



By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris