A Silent Man
written by: John Anthony Fingleton (Löst Viking)
I can remember when he was big and strong.
More than any other man I knew,
The weather could not stop his work –
But found far more easier things to do.
The harvest was no match for him,
Sometimes despite the pouring rain.
His strong arms shelved the hay bales,
Broad shoulders – sacks of grain.
Then one winter, the invasion came,
By an enemy of the mind.
Yet the changes came on slowly,
Like a shadow creeping from behind.
Not caring, if the day was bright,
Or the horses left running wild;
Broken fences went unrepaired,
The light slowly dimming in his eyes.
Then one day he just stopped talking,
As if words were some affliction to his means.
I still believe that the silence did not kill him –
But the total lack of dreams.
John Anthony Fingleton (Löst Viking)
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