Consolatrix Has Left the Building

Strolling all alone... across the ancient cemetery...-

tell me, isn't everything here... of a timeless green?!

I see that several visitors are also gathered here,

having an idle, little saunter on the old graveyard...

just like me.

I keep a candle burning for myself, so I won't feel all

alone;

we should have done so, but we never celebrated

anything here at all.

A leaden weariness creeps viscously like syrup down the

hills,

felling everybody... as it crawls upon the

monuments...-

only I escape its power, for the moment seem immune;

yet, two elderly ladies, guarding the right, the future

tomb

are scolding me, so filled with anger, filled with envy

and disdain:

"The dead are furious with you!

as you're wasting your precious time!"

Now there are faces in the carpet, there are people

living in the walls;

I hear the dead are calling: "sadness lies in wait in

the hours before dawn!"

These moments, fleeting as they are, they testify to us

they are the silent witnesses of a season about to

pass;

I cannot but admit, carelessly ignoring life's

finiteness,

that I am filled with fear and worry... and so much

shame because of this.

Well, everything I see, yes all the images are blurred,

it's hard to guess the future in the short-sighted

world.

How should this simple handicap be lightly well

ignored,

considering the dreadful blindness with which I have

been born.

We should have done so, but we never celebrated

anything here at all;

I hear the dead are calling: "sadness lies in wait in

the darkest hours...

... right before the dawn!"