Here sitting with the dead who lie like sleepers all around, I think dark thoughts as night goes on. The dying die, the living die as well, and all alike come to my house to sleep. There lies a sinner low. There sleeps a quiet saint. The old, the young, all come into my house. Come they to sleep? Come they to dream? I hope they dream in this dark night, for wakeful host, their sleepless host, I see a dreadful night, a long eternal night. Like sleepers all around they lie, and through the night, I sit with them.
Drabble: Long Night
Tale Told 