Post by Moonlight on Oct 15, 2010 9:27:28 GMT -5
To our wonderful Global Moderator, Kaine on his 21st birthday. ^_^
This poem is a birthday gift to a friend of mine; and while it does start out dark, it does indeed change to shades of gray, to a much lighter and warmer tone. A story of one’s struggle for happiness, per se. I hope you enjoy your special day, my friend. *Huggles.*
~ Moonlight.
Sage of Fire
Shadows are on the rise,
And light but a fleeting thing.
Future seems to spell demise,
An enrapturing ring.
Lives are lost in a gale,
Damage that cannot be undone.
It seems little will prevail,
Those lost like broken rungs.
There is but a deafening silence,
Lacking freedom in even a mote.
Despair is thick and dense,
Fires continually stoked.
But one rises from the flame,
Forged from the heat of life.
Yet not for glory or fame,
Simply weary of strife.
Mare or swordsman,
Neither, or both.
Yet he emerged from the lion’s den,
Giving scores a glimpse of hope.
Tired of being pushed down,
Watching others fall before his eyes.
Some are bound to join his Round,
To shatter long instilled lies.
So the hunt is on,
A challenge to the reigning power.
Galloping towards a new dawn,
Chilled by a spring rain shower.
Blades will bleed,
Shields will shatter.
Planting a seed,
Of the battered.
Lives are still destroyed,
Trust tossed and broken.
All due to an age old ploy,
What started from a mere token.
Betrayal cuts deep,
Eyes as cold as winter.
One murdered in sleep,
Creating a frosted splinter.
A festering thorn,
The spatter of red.
His bitter scorn,
Mourning for the dead.
Loss of a friend,
In an hour of need.
Makes no amend,
But causes a heart to bleed.
But loss turns to war,
Many called to battle.
Darkness yearns for more,
On foot or saddle.
Yet there was a foolish mistake –
To strike so near.
To make him fight for their sake,
For everything he holds dear.
It is with a heart of stone he strikes,
Having no sympathy.
Sparking a light,
Upon giving no mercy.
A hero he may be,
But one with a heavy heart.
Finding it difficult to see,
Stumbling in the dark.
Finding it difficult to trust,
Hiding beyond a broken smile.
Forgetting what should be a must,
After his many a mile.
Yet there is a gentle light,
Resting upon his hardened form.
This being no slight,
Something safe and warm.
The memory is dim as an ember,
But a comforting thought.
Love he yearns to remember,
A wish long sought.
And with a golden band,
It becomes clear.
As he slips it on her hand,
Just who he holds dear.
The circle becomes complete,
With the life of their son.
Naught can compete,
Their love second to none.
They call him many a thing,
From hero to ire.
But so many sing,
He is the Sage of Fire.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Shadows are on the rise,
And light but a fleeting thing.
Future seems to spell demise,
An enrapturing ring.
Lives are lost in a gale,
Damage that cannot be undone.
It seems little will prevail,
Those lost like broken rungs.
There is but a deafening silence,
Lacking freedom in even a mote.
Despair is thick and dense,
Fires continually stoked.
But one rises from the flame,
Forged from the heat of life.
Yet not for glory or fame,
Simply weary of strife.
Mare or swordsman,
Neither, or both.
Yet he emerged from the lion’s den,
Giving scores a glimpse of hope.
Tired of being pushed down,
Watching others fall before his eyes.
Some are bound to join his Round,
To shatter long instilled lies.
So the hunt is on,
A challenge to the reigning power.
Galloping towards a new dawn,
Chilled by a spring rain shower.
Blades will bleed,
Shields will shatter.
Planting a seed,
Of the battered.
Lives are still destroyed,
Trust tossed and broken.
All due to an age old ploy,
What started from a mere token.
Betrayal cuts deep,
Eyes as cold as winter.
One murdered in sleep,
Creating a frosted splinter.
A festering thorn,
The spatter of red.
His bitter scorn,
Mourning for the dead.
Loss of a friend,
In an hour of need.
Makes no amend,
But causes a heart to bleed.
But loss turns to war,
Many called to battle.
Darkness yearns for more,
On foot or saddle.
Yet there was a foolish mistake –
To strike so near.
To make him fight for their sake,
For everything he holds dear.
It is with a heart of stone he strikes,
Having no sympathy.
Sparking a light,
Upon giving no mercy.
A hero he may be,
But one with a heavy heart.
Finding it difficult to see,
Stumbling in the dark.
Finding it difficult to trust,
Hiding beyond a broken smile.
Forgetting what should be a must,
After his many a mile.
Yet there is a gentle light,
Resting upon his hardened form.
This being no slight,
Something safe and warm.
The memory is dim as an ember,
But a comforting thought.
Love he yearns to remember,
A wish long sought.
And with a golden band,
It becomes clear.
As he slips it on her hand,
Just who he holds dear.
The circle becomes complete,
With the life of their son.
Naught can compete,
Their love second to none.
They call him many a thing,
From hero to ire.
But so many sing,
He is the Sage of Fire.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This poem is a birthday gift to a friend of mine; and while it does start out dark, it does indeed change to shades of gray, to a much lighter and warmer tone. A story of one’s struggle for happiness, per se. I hope you enjoy your special day, my friend. *Huggles.*
~ Moonlight.