(C) Copywritten 2004
A cycle of art and spirit is shown, windows to my mind so deep.
Upon my walls where posters hang, that gaze at me below,
You'll find a colorful spin of life that tries my dreams to show.
At the head of my bed, where I lay my head, an artist sits alone
His name is Marshall, and his art's partial to an emotional tone.
Though others may laugh and point and ridicule me for my choice,
I happen to find great inspiration and power in his voice.
Next to him stands a pack of wolves, huddled still in whitest snow,
Three ways they gaze, each with a name: a path they must follow.
Under their keen and hunting eyes, my body lays to rest
And with sunrise, each time I rise, I greet them with the rest.
To their right, in a flash of fright, a fourth wolf stares and growls,
His eyes burn yellow, his teeth glow white, you can feel his icy scowl.
Unlike the three, he means to me the power of the one,
Through a single determination, all thought of can be done.
Around a bend we come across an evil riding fiend,
He flies with his scythe and burning red eyes as the night around him screams.
This vile hooded rider shows his power none can match,
And those that dare to strike at him, with vengeance he'll dispatch.
Much like the wolf that came before, this evil champion shows
A fury locked in all of us that with our anger goes.
His temper focused, and not unbound makes him an example
Of how I strive to pacify the conflicts of my role.
Next to him locked in combat stands a hero and his prey:
A serpent winged with fiery breath, with his magic he will slay.
The dragon howls his torrent of flame, but the hero won't back down
His courage stands the test of time, but in me is it found?
We next behold a mighty war that spans across the lands,
More heroes cry to rid the skies of the deadly dragon clans.
The battle blazes forward in a clash of conflict and strife,
Though fantasy, can it be seen the traces of real life?
And now we come full circle to face of nine old friends,
The countless times we shared before, the joy that never ends.
Their watchful eyes keep me alive in spirit and in soul,
I'll always speak to every one, from my young age to my old.
Around my space we've seen the face of evil, joy and war
But since their mine, you all will find that they have something more.
A little drop me inside of each and every frame;
I'll smile as I wake tomorrow, and see them all again.
