I am posting an old poem I wrote. The topic has been on my heart fairly heavily lately, let me know what you think.

The Demon

As I look upon the fresh fallen snow,
The Newborn has his wake
I hear the dreams in my old mind
Through nothingness, I partake

The tarns are dark within my heart
The waters, stale and cold
The ice has born up round my soul
As I walk about my fold

Where to look to find the lost
If I am the last to leave
For where to keep the sacred thoughts
The ones to which I cleave

I cannot hear the demons waken
To kill the fairy dreams
They came to me as soft I slept
And awoke to hardened screams

The vault was cracked and there I cried
The emptiness I felt
For all the years in hereafter
The memory where I dwelt

The pot of gold that made me sweat
In the world of fast excitement
Was reconciling the oldest thoughts
Of my old and lost enlightenment

The demon came as I slept
“Old Age” was his name
He took the pot of gold away
I will never be the same

For if I was the last to leave
This life of wonder bliss
The fairy dreams from which I lived
Were taken without consent

My memories, the pot of gold
The demon named Old Age
My safe so empty anymore
Away he won’t stay from sage

Incantations I have tried
To give me back my life
But in the end the demon came
And makes it not worth strife

For in the world came the child
Life of ignorance
He smiles bright without his gold
Without the decadence

For out the world leaves the man
Death in ignorance
He smiles bright without his gold
Without the decadence


-justin