Sunday, 20 March 2011

The Count’s Lament.

I have been one acquainted with the night[1]

I ruled and dominated that domain.

The last one of my kind

to carry the burden of immortality.

The castles of my previous lives,

that once were symbols of my power,

Are now,no more than cold, dank places,

in which to sleep away the days.

The gothic caricatures of my servants

no longer live to serve me and now

That feudal existence seems callow.

But who will act for me when I have to hide away.

I still crave the pleasures of the flesh,

not as an indulgence but a need

Bringing sorrow to the streets,

My lust a monster I must feed.

I must move on to find the modern world

And claim my own inheritance.

To change but there’s the rub, when

I have been one acquainted with the night.

[1] Line from Acquainted With The Night ©Robert Frost

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