A Curse For Astaldo

Frail old man in a frail bone house;

Brittle-bodied weakling mouse.

Breath rattles like a ghost,

Your limbs fail you when you need them most.

The blood is thick behind your eyes;

Eggshell fists and leaden thighs.

The ages heavy weigh you down;

Inside your own wet lungs you drown.

No steady rhythm beats your heart;

The drummer’s wearied in his art.

Once mighty hero heavy fallen

To no greater foe than step mis-trodden.