A Draugr's Sorrow

He slowly wakes

To stretch his bones

His long-dry heart

Pumps naught but stones

Emerged from walls

Cold floor and feet

To make his rounds

All bittersweet

'There's peace in here,'

He sings and cries

Consoling his

Dry, weary eyes

A flick of wrist

And flame appears

A memory

An atmosphere

A cave wind blows

Disturbing rest

A muttering,

His brothers' nest

Attendant fire

The candles light

To drive away

The ceaseless night

He walks about

His footsteps ring

His dark routine

An echoing

'What good are names,'

A musing stirs

'To those more aged

Than pine and fir?'

A master once

He worshipped then

A priest of wings

A god of men

He wonders now,

'Where have they gone?

I miss those days

Of halcyon'

His brothers sleep

Alcove and urn

He keeps the fire

And candles burn

When all is light

The path he sees

Will lead his rest

From tired knees

Back to the wall

He will return

Til next he wakes

A bleak pattern

And pondering

All that is lost,

The lonely ghost

Returns to frost