Ballad of the Lone Warrior
Paused softly the feet that hath trampled blood,
Dimmed the fire that burned merciless...
As mirrored thoughts of solitude glistened
In the unrippled pool of emptiness – and neither sword
Nor beastly cry found an answer within that heart.
To not depart was a doubt o'erpowering
To fight on was a thought warm in the least.
As fell his fellowmen, soft tears sought
A weakening heart, submissive in that his destiny lay
Elsewhere.
Neither wizard nor soldier glimpsed
His quiver of sadness, encased in armours of impassive lines.
So stretched his object, beyond the sun, across seas dark
And snows deep. What more glorious than an unsung demise?
What more futile than a voyage to a fairie tale?
And if tales were believed, any dream might live –
For a warrior who had lost his faith...
- from 'Glades of Vesalrothe'