Why Would We?

Too many want so ardently that which they don't,

To shed their own lives so as to come alive,

To crave a delusion as is their wont.

Perhaps they presume then that fate shall ignore them,

that over the Earth they might wistfully wend,

No cares but desire and hunger to tend.

Once, a madwoman lost her life, and then her son;

She shrieked for ten weeks, and then her shrieks were stilled.

Night came, she won of new sons a dozen.

In the end, only two came to call her mother

And of those two, neither one came to love her

For all were living good lives afore they were turned.

In time, of course, most will find fair things to live for

And yearn to spurn mortality nevermore,

But for some, fool-love and longing endure.

Better for them if they never believe in us,

Better if they prove too lazy to seek for us,

And best above all else that they never find us.

Once, there was a fool who sought passage o'er the sea,

He'd no coin, so paid with immortality

And turned the whole crew of seventy three.

Seventy three men with no blood to sustain them,

Long summer days without wind to save them,

Most jumped and sank down where the sun will not reach them.

Every year there's a few who arrive at my gate,

Thinking they've come to the cusp of a grand fate;

Long I leave them standing, to wait, to think;

But by that point, it's rare that one will turn away,

So far they've walked for nothing, yet still they stay,

I give nothing, but their nourishing blood I take.

Once... no, indeed I suspect a great many times

There are two young lovers whose hearts are entwined,

Whose love endures even after they've died;

But time is no friend to love, nor lover's bliss,

Hundreds of years draws the sweetness from each kiss,

Love is never meant to be stretched so long as this.