My little friends

[Rynn Aethelraed]

Such a dark and damp chamber filled with despair,
A craggy rock hole, carved out of this lair,
So quiet it is, between the pause of my breath,
No sound at all, save one that is left,
Drip...drip...drip... Little, single, drips of water, dropping through the air,
And taking a lifetime to listen to each,
Dripping... and dripping... and falling on the rocks below them,
I can hear the sound of their little drop beats,
In the stillness of my court, time has no meaning,
And time slows down, to be so deceiving,
Drip...drip...drip... I can see in my mind, so precious and small,
Liquid tear crystals, little windows that fall,
And with closed eyes I continue to see,
In each little window, a reflection of me.

Each one clings to the ceiling above us, then falling through the silence that fills the air,
Into the pools below that are rocky and porous,
In this craggy rock hole, carved out of this lair,
And their death, I can feel through the ends of my fingertips,
Their little vibratos each time they hit, as they traverse the rock to beg my attention,
to remind my soul of its grave absolution,
Drip...drip...drip... I can hear, for each time one dies another draws near,
They have gathered together in a symphony of noises,
One by one, the immaculate choruses of little drip voices,
Oh the sound of little... single... drips of water dropping very... very near,
Into the drip filled pools... of drip filled tears...
Between the rocks that are covered with little green mosses,
Where indeed I shall lay, for the rest of my years.
My little... little friends how we share such endearments, meeting journeys end before our fulfilments.