The immortal
He sits high upon his throne
Eyes closed still as stone
His mind and spirit broken and old
His body unwilling to die, radiant as gold
His memories like a bridge through time and space
Reaching back for that long lost place
Full of loved ones and foes long gone
Things he did and things he wished he had done
Sitting in halls now broken and hollow
Walking paths only he can follow
He isn’t living anymore yet never dies
Till one day he opens up his broken eyes
And sees he himself has become a legend of which the elders preach
And realises this world has gone beyond his reach
Blinded by the bright light, deafened by the sounds he flees
Back into his world of bittersweet memories