In a book a young child found
Was a blank dark page
Beckoning to him, saying: Please write!
Explain my blackened days.
The child took it upon himself,
To fill the paper’s request
He wrote a paragraph epitaph
To lay the page to rest.
“I am the dark page of life,” it said,
“I belong to all of you.
Each of you has a piece of me
In everything you do.”
Long ago in a place too far
To see or travel to,
A sad, aged hobbit sat down to write
His story, long but true.
What he found there, as he opened his book
Was the very same page that the child saw.
It too beckoned to him to write
Upon the dark page, and add a line.
“In everyone’s life there is a dark page,
Terrible, horrid yet grand
But my sad page of all of them
Has been my last stand.
“For I am the page of light on dark,
And dark has taken me over.
Away I must run for it once more,
And once more, my life is over.
“Now I go to the far sea,
When this book is done,
There’s nothing more, for this dark page
Has, at last, won.”