frozen and dark atop a mountain side
lies a forgotten house of broken stone.
with an iron gate stretching far and wide,
our cruel world has left its tenant alone.

a living soul knows not who resides there
among the barren plains and ashen land.
a being who has found home in the lair
of quiet, truthful tongues and shifting sand.

tendrils of smoke snake from the castle ground,
seeking a partner for the end of time.
yet the people flee and nothing is found--
a lonely love regarded as a crime.

so, in the dark of night, when all is calm,
feel not afraid should you sense Death’s cold palm.