Standing still, waiting,

A ghost of the past, of memories fading.

His mind moves fast, his body moves slow,

Idling, as times around him flow.

A clever mind, a broken heart,

Hands dyed red in his black art.

He lost his one love.

She flew away, his mourning dove.

A mask to hide his bitter tears,

Eyes smiling in the midst of fears.

Lightning arced across stormed sky.

The thunder, his tear-soaked lullaby.

Cold stone against his callused hand,

All that is left, behind his headband.

The scarecrow stands on the battlefield,

His heart and soul in blood and hope, concealed.

The future burns with white-hot light,

As together in love, their souls ignite.