The Old Knight
Sometimes I fall asleep in the armchair.
Midst the balmy winds of autumn afternoons.
Only to wake up in disbelief that I dozed.
I turn around to ask him if I really did.
Halfway into calling his name, it occurs to me that he's gone.
At 72... I look down at the floor, I gaze up into the sky.
My gasps are long and weary, and then everything falls into silence.
My hair has been gray for twenty years.
My limbs have been limper and I've known that.
But this is different.
This is new.
This is uneasy.
With a surreal conviction, I rode into the night each time.
Like a man on a mission, an impossible task at hand.
I knew all the theories... I mastered all the arts.
I possessed all the props... Ready to beat the odds.
It wasn't just my city, or even the god damn world.
It was fighting for what I believed in...
Even when that meant fighting gods.
For righteous was my path and indefatigable I was.
Vengeance was my legacy, and justice my cause.
But the winds of time erode the dunes of all men.
And all the nocturnals must face the sunlight.
Yet I still have sleepless nights, staring into the dark.
Gotham has learned peace... But I haven't learned rest.
It's strange... With all this knowledge of mine, I'm not wise enough to see...
That the man who inflicted fear, is now afraid to let it be.
It's my time to give up controlling, and succumb to life as it is.
But I don't know how to do that, coz I have never lived.
For I was only Batman, the vigilante who fought for justice...
To avenge my parents' murder, along with whom had died... the kid named Bruce Wayne!