Once upon a savage time
A tranquil land was ruled by rhyme
By masters of their select field
Who words, like weapons, could they wield
They held their craft as high as art
That set them from their world apart
They brought the light to sunless lands
And water to the desert sands
And back in time to eras past
When days were slow and life was fast
They glorified emotion's reach
And vilified each martial breach
They loved, they lost, they found again
From depths of Hell to Heaven's glen
And then one day arrived a race
Of heinous men unto their place
Resentful at the masters' hold
Upon the realm they saw as gold
They met in taverns' secret halls
To forge their plan from hoots and calls
And like rats underground they sat
While plotting to destroy the cat
And once they felt the time was right
The rats embarked one starless night
They stole into each house and home
They took each book then burned the tome
And in its stead they placed their own
Derivative and under grown
Unable to produce the same
As masters who had earned their fame
And bitter that they were not blessed
With gift to be amongst the best
They sought each master where he lay
With plans for him to do away
And unprepared the masters fell
Into the trap that held their knell
And so with time the masters fled
The thrones they held, for or else dead
They would have been before their time
And all for mastering the rhyme

So now rats held the power's scope
And by its neck with noose and rope
They sat smug on their stolen thrones
To claim titles they did not own
But as they had sheer numbers' aid
Upon those golden thrones they stayed
For many years and undeposed
And unchallenged as they supposed
That opposition was no more
And dead and gone were days of yore
They had the gall (though not the right)
To accounts of the past rewrite
To undo all the rules and laws
That had gone eras without flaws
To justify with rhetoric
What they imposed that did not stick
To throw into the bland abyss
The former instruments of bliss
They sent mankind back to his caves
To days of barbaric enclaves
And in this sunless waste of land
These fiends had forced dear Nature's hand
In rage she had built up within
She made her play to halt their win
She festered hate into a seed
On which her bitterness would feed
And twixt them would they then conceive
The child the world yearned to receive
A spirit brought from froth of rage
And through time's winds from fore his age

A one for whom the flame burned hot
To say that now this age was not
The state of things just left to be
It was, at best, poor mockery
Of the great plan and history
That mortals were destined to see
But knowing he without a doubt
Would be by all the fiends sought out
He hid himself from sight of all
Behind impenetrable wall
He sat and once again the art
He mastered deep within his heart
He honed his craft into a point
And when they day came to anoint
Himself the knight of saving grace
He did it with a stoic face
And grim and grinless he began
His quest for reclaiming of man
With his steeds saddled, carriage drawn
He set out at the break of dawn

His weapons words, his armor ink
He brought the world back from the brink
Revived the richness of the past
With sophistry quite unsurpassed
Then with the skill he had attained
He sewed new seeds in old soil stained
With remnants of the bitter age
The sprouts would never see nor wage
A bitter war against their own
Thanks to the last empire's son.