A lonely land far from stars or sea
A wasteland to those who wept or sinned
Littered with remnants of life's debris
Caught and scattered by a howling wind

A forsaken hilltop in this frigid place
A small dark blot on a land of bone
A cottage marking its stark white face
Standing silent and alone

No light shone through the window's grime
To cast its joy on the sad estate
The shadow of home in its long-ago prime
A pall no sun could alleviate

Shadows filled the meager space
And reached the boundries of the room
A man sat in its dark embrace
Lost amidst the heavy gloom

His clothes were ragged, tattered, torn
With visage marked with lines of age
His life had left him tired and worn
Trapped within a darkened cage

He sat by the blackened fireside
Reflecting on his better days
His eyes held fading flames inside
That filled his old and weary gaze

Outside, the wind, a malignant blast
Shrieked and screamed like an infernal choir
He comforts himself with relics of the past
As he sat beside the dying fire

He stared into the dancing flames
And talked to lost family members
He thought of voices, faces, names
Ghosts within the fading embers