29 June 2003
This poem is my particularily poor attempt at some type of an epic poem. I actually had forgotten about writting it - it was nearly done. I just tacked on the the last stanza, since it had to have an ending of some type. Perhaps I’ll do more with it in the future.
Upon a rock one man strayed.
Stirring the embers of the dying flame.
He sat there waiting for the drawing near,
The time-between-times to appear.
The moon glimmered down upon the darkened cove,
Its ocean light flickered and wove.
Arden’s face was thus revealed,
Stoic in pain, but in despair devoured.
A warrior-poet he was known to be,
Forceful in war, majesty seen.
His wisdom was deep, his knowledge fair,
And the words he spoke entrapped in truth’s lair.
The grey of his head a truth revealed
Not of age, but of depth unveiled
His sword carried not color the same
But red, it possessed a different fame.
To this world, he did not belong,
Yet to it he was bound, melody to song.
His life was a gift given to men,
The burning soul, the flame that rent.
His eyes searched fire in forgotten ways.
For a place he would someday remain.
A mighty truth he did wrought,
But it was the end of ends that he sought.
And now, the land began to change
The shimmering of the moon light falling as rain,
The glowing embers burst forth,
The darkness more dark became.
And he cried in a voice of power,
‘Show yourself to me, my great Tower!
Forgotten Lord, warrior-king,
To mine shallow eyes, let thee be seen!’
As he spoke, the embers roared,
The mountains shook, and the spirit soared.
But shadow shown and the darkness groaned -
Arden broke upon the stone.
Shadow crept about:
Fighting the sacred and devout.
The battle for this soul began:
Satan’s sword against heaven’s hand.
The war endures yet today,
For each side has their claim.
And in the world, the battle is gleaned.
‘Till Arden once again be seen.
