Shards of Truth, Fragments of Fire
I grab the shard,
Grasping it and pulling it down,
Close to my heart,
Even as the sharp edges bite my flesh,
Even as its light burns my eyes,
For it is a blade of truth,
And it is a blaze of glory,
For the truth cuts through delusions,
And it burns away fantasies,
Leaving you undefended in a cold world,
Unless you can keep its heat in your mind,
Where it will replace all that you lost,
And more.
Dusk Thieves
Swords in the moonlight,
Otherwise hidden in the midnight,
As quiet feet leap,
Cat-like up the wall.
Rapid motion in the night,
Dodging guards who wish to fight,
For wall are enough protection,
Against those of stealth an action.
Chases through the halls,
Across the walls,
Stealth in darkness,
Speed in light.
So does the group of men,
Reach their goal and then,
Find that a single door,
Leads to and from the treasure room.
One of them runs inside,
Grabs the prize, but has no place to hide,
As his companions fight the guards,
Outside the treasure room.
Slash and jab,
Slice and stab,
Brave men’s blood spilt,
There before the treasure room.
But lo! What is this?
No man is this!
But woman who lies dead,
Before the treasure room.
And so the thief, quickest in the team,
Lets out a wail, releases a scream,
His wife, sweet and beautiful,
Lays dead, cold upon the floor.
As his friends did die around him,
As his chance of survival did dim,
He ran back inside,
That aught ill-fated treasure room.
Death was on his mind,
And he found what he wished to find,
The black sword of curved blade,
A blade the bore the word “Revenge.â€
He took up the sword in his rage,
And struck down every knight and page,
And while he won,
He was lost.
He had no reason to go on,
The love of his life was dead and gone,
But he would live yet,
Lost in the night, blind in the day.
He traveled back from that foreign land,
To his kind, treasure in hand,
And gave to his king,
That which had been stolen.
But now it ends,
For on a cliff in the winds,
The sword Revenge has its hilt set to the ground,
And finds one last use.
Even So it Is
The phantoms of night,
Surrounding the dread,
A following of darkest phantoms.
Doomed to die,
Never to cry,
To haunt our world,
Forever.
So drowned in darkness,
Lost in dreary dreams,
Lost beyond time,
Lost to the deaths.
Still, a few dare gaze upwards,
To look past the smoke,
To see past the souls so detached,
To see past the darkness,
And though the tide of death.
So they see,
And stare surprised,
At the one bright point,
At one star,
At hope.
Well... There's a bunch more!
<p>The worst nightmares are those we create ourselves... And then ignore.</p>
Edited by: [url=http://p068.ezboard.com/brpgww60462.showUserPublicProfile?gid=pdrydia>pd] at: 6/12/05 15:02