What light doth sooth an aching heart?

One which beats no more?

Death upon death then rise again.

Love lost in the battle of lore.

My strife hath grown with my age.

To encompass those around.

Soft nothings whisper everywhere.

Plotting to bring me to the ground.

As those mortal souls live their merry lives.

I sit here watching waiting for my time to die.

I have walked this earth for centuries.

Leaving nay a trace behind.

No photo or journal hold my likeness.

For your mortal mind to find.

I will remain here after your kin is laid in the ground.

And yet not a single tear wept for its soul.

For memory is a fickle being.

Often leaving a gaping hole.