I could twiddle my thumbs as the world is stained a sepia hue; look at the room's corners until they replace my psyche

I could sit with endlessly repeating notes playing through my head

And words that never leave, either

I... when keys and pages are old and lifeless

Sit

And listen

Only the wind can be heard howling between the spires above

There is no sun

Only moonlight coldly illuminating the stone around me

I am the master

The occupant

The Keeper