The old man sits alone Philosophising upon the stars Life's beauty fades And time is not kind But the hermit cares not Stooped on his rock stool Back bent with strain From holding his frail figure from falling The old man cries out to the gods Why must I live on? But deep inside he knows Many winters he has seen More than that of natural gift Vampire's blood he holds And the curse will not end him But as he denies it and does not drink Nor will the curse mend him So upon a rocky cairn sits he And patiently waits to die For his curse shall not release him And his will shall not cave in So on that hill stoops he Even now........ Old man, why wish you to die? Why hide your wisdom? Come share your knowledge Let us learn the secrets you know