The Afterparty

When the last bell tolled on the hour of ten I swept myself in a hurried fashion from the study. It had become apparent that I was now alone, the party guests who’s arrivals hours ago I had anticipated with a scurried eagerness had now ebbed to a departure. My thoughts and breaths echoing alone together about the now empty manor walls. Beneath my footfalls the creak and cry of floorboards my sole escort about the lengthy dark halls. A lantern in hand flickering dim, spectacles on face squinting thin, I peered and paced the great hall in search of one last evening farewell. Alas, as a lonely hope faded to a grim dismay, there was no living flesh inside this vast citadel, beyond the aged groans of my own heart there was not an ounce of life. Beyond the beat beating a dull rhythm therein, just enough to move my blood, but not enough to move my soul. Tired and alone yet again in this giant catacomb of art and class. What purpose would my timid old heart have to patter away if I had not a person to hear it, if there was no other to share the beating of my heart with. I sighed a lonely groan and groaned a lonelier grunt. Would this truly be the last of my time with friends? It seemed years since I’d entertained the notion of entertaining guests. Had these past hours gone by on a calendar rather than a clock? The hour of ten came so swiftly fast that I felt it surly had twice surpassed the days and months since my guests had come and gone. Have I really been alone so long? Dash it! Think not of this quagmire of pain, my internal monologue piped resolute. Come, there is much you can do upon these grounds that’ll put some breath into those old lungs. “Nape”, I hissed aloud, instantly regretting the resonation of such an ugly sound. Lucky thing no guests were about, for such a lack of manners would surely offend, and ensure I’d be alone. But I was, so why dwell upon it. “No loss” said I and ascended the stairs. A good nights sleep will end this rut! And off I clamoured through the hallowed lonely halls, the residual ring of a festive evening fading from my old grey ears. “A Demain” I muttered. A garden needs attending, a fountain cleaned until the sun kisses it with reflective light. Yes, Shining that water bearing stone should surely shine my heart to a warmer hue. A demain it is, a day to behold the manner in the sun light, so that it may cast a better light upon my predicament. My emptiness inside a large empty home. Mind as well trade it for a tomb, at least therein I’d be comfortable interred. What a thought? Dare I let such mad wishes grab a hold of me? Not two hours past I had the most sensible notions about me. Shame, how time and space unfilled by one small man can take its maddening toll! Alas again, off to bed. And up the stairs I hopped hoping to awake for another day to recommence my lonely call. But only the night can decide should I again see day, and so in his hands I place my humble heart, and on his pillow rest my balding head. Shall bells first toll beckon my sunrise, or shall the boatman beckon my soul?

Life Unlived

Had I but more time to live this life,
And more time to sing your praise.
Grow I closer to the morticians knife,
With my impending end of days.
I struggle to write and for my mind to be free,
Grasping at words I soon forget,
For instead I struggle with mortality,
My lifestyle Death's aide and abet.
Far too often I dwell in a macabre den,
Pierced by fears of the strange unknown,
My minds own makings of a cold prison,
These thoughts force man to live alone.
The brief sands of my time flowing fast away,
As I sit and cower in a frightened haze,
Passing swiftly each God given day,
Plotting escape from death's steely gaze.
Would I but take my eyes off his,
And live a life happy and free,
Then I'd dwell not on his business,
And need not live for eternity.
For a life can be big even if short in size,
After all, is brevity not the soul of wit?
So instead of fearing my demise,
I'll enjoy life by actually living it.