Inside his solemn notions Outside the judging eyes His mind created potions His mind painted skies He walked celestial paths In the dusk, in the dawn But he is in the past Because of days so forlorn The castle, his creation Its halls were his home Perhaps exaggeration Yet tales to be told Master of his craft Commanding quill and ink But his mind did not last His vision blurred too dim He touched the truth too close Disturbed the halls of those Who gave him his soul Who let his mind roam All for his art He wrote his mind apart Confusing his soul In the end he was alone