His old eyes
Are very tired
The searching
Of immortality
He bears the burden
That as a blunt
Blade cuts
His heart
He spills
Own wisdom
In writing
To enter
His name
On the pages
Of history
The book ov signs
The dusty pages
In his weakness
Irritation and wrath
He writes the books
Ov signs
You can regard them
As heresy
You can find
Greatness
The book ov signs
The dusty pages