I once found you underneath a story,
Peeking behind the cloud, the mist of fact,
That lurked like a curtain in front of me
And lazed about my eye, a cataract.
That castle was brought down eventually.
After the storm, the sun arrived, I tried,
No longer admired its reality.
After all, no gain, I was made to strive,
That night I felt a cry away from Death,
He told the story in a whisper tone.
I did not realise I needed help
Because nobody said I was alone.
We held each other as Death sung goodnight,
On the back of his grave hand, I cried.