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