The Empath

When once upon a summer’s ending

A fragile man he was intending

That his life may one day be

As bright as sun and shore and sea

But the man his soul was seething

Hemorrhaging from mournful bleeding

High it was the count revealed

Those who’d felt his cold hard steel

And high it was the count remained

Whom in the man’s vainglory slain

Whose undead and immortal pain

Did bathe the man like falling rain

When once upon that summer’s breadth

Where hours came and slowly crept

The man had thought that all was right

The moon the stars the sun and night

And all was right and as it should be

The past is as a teacher would be

Still hard it was for man to see

Himself as what he is to me

I held his hand and knew his heart

I trembled when we were apart

And in that I bestowed my love

He saw himself as what he was