Who is to say what battle is worth fighting for?
Such a thing is caused by the deepest of ones most heartfelt desire…
Better that I had died that day,
Then be trapped in the realm of the living…
A subservient life…One I was not meant to endure.
My place, my honor…they lie in another time
Another dimension…If there is such a thing
Out my window broods such an Empire of Knights…
Deserving of my blood
But I must only bow to such a King.
Life is a repetition of what was to be
Pulling in one the other direction
Laughing as my day has come to pass.
My Day Has Passed
Let another come to play with my soul
A heart that loves no more…
Our days of peace are all but through,
As fear takes its hold…
Classic and fallen,
The realm of evil has taken its toll
I wonder, as I look to the east…
Will this smoke clear my mind?
Has this one unconscious mistake become my path?
To each I know, an answer I will not find…
As The Calvary clears my desires
It was a boy, meant to be King
And in deliverance of itself is seen
His glory, his passion,
His noble, white steed…
Value of another’s life above your own
Free will is the sacrifice of the fallen few,
Giving of themselves to the chosen many
As my beloved rides into the wind…
His Valor
His Honor
His Code of Old…
A sense of worth buried deep within himself
His love a vast, warm glow
That now only haunts these, my dim walls
An ache that will never cease…
I do not know tomorrow
He stood firm to the steel
Such is wielded by but a man,
Once thought to be his brother…
Staring in those eyes as he leaves his last breath
Such an honor to cast into the heart of this beast…
My beloved kissed the hand that killed him
I see vivid beauty, yet such pain that goes untold
The beauty lies in the fear
The dark side of the mind…
A lone tear that falls to the sand
Chivalry is not yet dead…
To fight with honor through even the most torrential of battle
For even your enemy deserves and warrants respect
In that is honor,
In that lies your tomorrow…
So many demons to let go,
And that many more battles that are yet to be won
Seems so often that mercy is not granted when it is most needed
But freely offered to those who seem undeserving
Not my place to judge
But only to feel…
Retain a sense of dignity…
I hope not to see the day of men when they fall
Claim your Gold Cup…
Drink hearty draughts, thirst not providing
Fill your spirit with not pride and hate,
But swallow deep such love and integrity…
Causes worth undertaking are worthy of death…
An unsaid code,
In the truest of Soldier…
A Knight, most worthy of honor
A King that bows to a pauper,
Is the truest kind of man…
Who is to say what battle is worth fighting for?
Such a thing is caused by the deepest of ones most heartfelt desires
Better that I had died that day,
Then be trapped in the realm of the living…
I beg for the hand…the steel of a blade
To gaze into evil and kiss the hand that kills me…
The world will never go back to relive what it was,
Do you hold that kind of power in your hand?
Or pass it to the wayside…
To die in bloody vain for another amusement?
The world will bow to love…
If one would but kiss the hand that kills them…