A short poem about a hero facing a beast and the unlikely outcome. |
In darkness begins our mystery; of mist and smoke and fog Where boy to man our hero becomes, and where friend is made from foe His birth all quaint and normal like, his parentage hath no claim His eyes alight with candle bright like man who has no shame. Yet till one day he hath not feared, nor learned his fate this way A fearsome meet and foe well met, entered, to the fray. Our hero stands amongst the few, that fight against this threat Our hero stands amongst the few, and gets what he can get He stands aloft and stands aloof, heart pounding; racing fast He stands amongst the battle-clad field, atop the blood-red grass. Where dragons breath meets human gain and history comes enflamed Where blood-red eyes and swords of steel shine brightly all the same. His body shakes, his brow all sweat, his hands shake fearsomely His sword all raised above thine head and posed so solemnly. His eyes alight with feeling bright, locked, into the fray The beast looks down, his eyes of steel look on in sheer dismay The beast looks on at this, our hero standing still, eyes on the game. The beast looks on and gruffly snuffs and sets forth a stream of flame. The boy, our hero, stutters back; takes shelter behind his shield Then looks on shaking, the beasts eye gleaming flame subsided, the beast hath heeled The beast's head rears and thrusts forth sharp, cuts through the boy's defence He takes the shield into his mouth, the end, the boy can sense. The beast now faced with our hero alone as his throat begins to drum The boy's weapon drops, he kneels in fear for what hath he to become. The beast looks on with gleaming eyes, his muzzle thrusting forth He taps the boy on forehead twice and pulls his face up north "Be still, good boy, and have no fear for i've no will to fight You've proven your own bravery by showing of your plight I've lived more years than you can count, nor could ever know there was But being feared, reviled, not loved is a life but not with cause I've lived so long i've come to hate the creature which i am To hurt so many with not single act fake misdeeds, batted like a ram So strike me now, good boy I pray, and claim your victory Your heart is pure, your actions right at least you, will set me free" With that said he dips his head, and gives the boy his brand And tears doth drop down beastly face, to wait for death's cold hand |