Standing near the sill he stayed, wishing for life.
Waiting and wondering as whispers pass his ear.
Nothing to grasp, no one to speak, never a moment of respite
He stays quietly, his heart beating, but no real feeling.
Alone, only his austere memories to accompany the long days.
Wooden floors creak with the winds, all bleak and ruined.
Cocks crowing as the dawn creeps over the darkened trees
He stays quietly, hollow without heaven to look forward to.
Bright is the dawn, before the evening breeze, he still waits.
Wishing that his works will last for all eternity
Nothing for his pain, no person for his love, never a moment of respite
He stays quietly, haunted by his past, by the hallowed ground he stands.
Serene days, the simple life he led with spirits to welcome him in drinks.
Wasting away, never waking from the waning of his pitiful life.
Careless, or perhaps carefree, he created no importance to stand by.
He stays quietly, hindered by his haste to atone from the past.
Atonement comes with abiding the laws of the almighty, so he stays.
Waiting for his acceptance, wishing for his wasteful beginnings to disappear
He stays quietly as the hand from above heal the misgivings of his soul.