So Richard called forth from the night a figure of much fewer years.
A man who glowed with inner light, a man who people revered.
A man yet unmarred by sorrow, a man not yet carrying his fears.
From the night of madness and memory, Young Richard appeared.
Young Richard brought with him memories of the time he felt alive,
Of times still filled with life and love, of times when he felt the Sun.
Young Richard was still in love, and Young Richard would still thrive.
Because he still held in his heart the fire that came from The One.
“Come and sit beside me!”, Old Richard called to the younger man.
“Come share the flame you carry, that flame I once held and lost.”
“I would feel her light inside me, I would feel her love again if I can!”
But the man could not hear him, and Richard’s heart began to frost.
So Old Richard had to be content to watch the man still in his prime,
He watched him bask in the love he could recall but no longer feel.
Through the misty eye of memory, through the cracked lens of time,
Richard watched this young apparition and craved this young ideal.
“What madness have you conjured?”, the darkness asked full of spite.
“What delusions have you brought me only to have it shatter and die?”
“Your dark heart knew misery even when the Sun shone most bright.”
“This Young Richard a desperate wish. This Young Richard is just a lie!”
So the darkness shattered the ghost that was both comfort and deceit.
Instead it called forth a man filled with insecurity, selfishness and sin,
A man destined for disaster, who would orchestrate his own defeat.
It showed him the true Young Richard, the man he had once been.
