The Pain I feel is yet so great,
that I will hate the Love they make.
For if this is the Future I see,
then by all means just bury me.
Yet if this destiny I can change,
this plight of mine would seem so strange.
For if the Future is written from the past,
some Love alone may yet still last.
For some Love is the eternal bond,
like the land, the sea, the sky, and sun.
Bound together forever in a dance,
of a the mighty celestial romance.
Yet for others it just seems to be,
the Pain of all eternity.
Still through all this, Faith lives on,
as a companion to the next generation of Dreamers.
The
Smith.
The Smith,
his hands and face are black,
and men still fear his hammers crack.
The iron hit and struck again,
until it bares the brand of he
who yelled and struck from cold within.
The Smith now sleeps in caverns old,
his face still twisted, grim and cold
and slightly black from days of old.
The furnace cold.
The caverns black.
No hammer falls with ringing crack.
The darkness still,
the caverns deep,
and silent while he lies asleep.
The
Struggle.
The moon rose high in the Eastern sky,
playing deep shadows across the forest.
Yet in the darkest reaches of the valley,
Where weeping willows hide with their drooping limbs,
the eternal struggle of Good and Evil.
Good in the form of a knight,
armed with silver sword and golden shield.
Pledged to vanquish the Evil.
Evil sheathed in slimy scales,
with leathery wings and razor teeth.
A dragon with fiery breath, also pledged in eternal fight.
To destroy the Good by the morning light.
Yet as always is their curse,
they fight again every night.
With wounds repaired and life restored.
They emerge each night to settle the score,
which will forever be equal, one to one or zero to zero.
This is how it will forever be,
as is their one and only destiny.
As long as man should walk the Earth,
with will to be free.
The Path.
The path is true,
and the pilgrims ready,
as the sun does rise again.
In the West lays the Golden city.
With sparkling towers high.
The pilgrims move with varied step,
and all share the song.
Of faith and love,
and joy above the calmness of the sea.
They walk for days,
but still the song rings high to the mountain peaks.
The song of joy and friendship,
and faith above all else.
Their journey done,
the battle won, they celebrate the day,
when pilgrims all did finish the trek to the Golden City.