The Song of the Fallen

The Song of the Fallen

The ember sky, the midnight sun,
Would shine; the world aslumber,
But lo, the man, the warrior bold,
Would relish in the night.

A thousand deeds, a thousand days,
Have all been rent asunder,
The light of truth, his right, his way,
So quickly cast aside.

His master now, the prince of lies,
Has called him with his thunder,
The echo of his dark command,
“Take pleasure in the sight

Of broken lives, of burning homes,
The taking of this plunder,”
The blackguard stands, his blade in hand,
He charges to the fight.


But comes a day, and far too soon,
When light will shine, as bright as noon,
His eyes will burn, his voice will rue,
The day he lost his faithful Truth,
The day he set path anew,

But in his tears will come no peace,
No greater rest, no time for sleep,
And on that day he’ll face the seat,
Of judgment where he’ll have to reap
His new reward, the voice so sweet,

“My son, my son, how could you?”