Clouded Sunset

His life was that of virtue, and unparalleled goodness,
No evil or contamination could stop his heart,
At least, we thought.

The slander got the best of him, eventually,
He closed up, broke down, his spirit just...
Fled.

His times of exclusivity, we all loved his actions,
His routines, most particularly his habit,
Of watching every sunset.

He wrote about each dusk, nightly,
Candied skies, glowing entities, like...
Hope.

But now without his purity, sans reasons,
Autism touched more than his mind,
He is rendered blind.

He self-demotes to his wooden chair, bitterly,
Blaming the crass, the close-minded, the...
Led.

I am his last company, in his blind respite from life,
To look after the bittersweet husk of a man,
I once knew well.

This eve he asked me a favour, desperately,
To see the sunset, to let hindsight help him...
Cope.

I walked him to the hills, by the glistening bank,
I let him know that it was the place,
He used to dream.

He looked skyward hopefully, futilely,
And gazed upon him and what he had...
Said.

"Violet nimbus clouds, on a crimson backdrop,
And a golden sun centres itself,
In her canary loneliness.

Glowing sunbeams descend, gracefully,
Tied to clouds like the noose of a heavenly...
Rope."

He had warmed hearts, and he purged tears,
Anger washed away and eroded his layers,
He could see again.

He looked around in wonderment, excitedly,
But joy turned to disappointment, and in seconds he lay...
Dead.