The City

A life age from then till now is lost between these trees,
A story of what was once there yet now is but a breeze.
The stories of the tall white towers is now just a dream,
That only the old and learned who, among the hills are seen.

They tell in full the tale of old, of dragons and of flame,
Of soothing love of purest hearts and burning rage untamed.
The story of the brave young prince that ventured far and wide,
But not to return was this prince nor the steed by his side.

The story goes the enraged King set out to avenge his son,
Roaming through the world forever until the deed was done.
For fifty years he wandered, searching for his heir,
Till at last when life was fading, to the earth his life he shared.

His kingdom fell with his crown in to the dark filled night,
When rebels took his crown and title and washed the land with fright.
Yet hope was not completely gone in the land that once was fair,
As one remained with the strength, the crown again, to bear.

His mind was dark and sorrowful at his loss of father and will,
He hid himself in the shadows where his heart with sorrow filled.
His tears dropped like raindrops in the pale moonlight,
And then his tears turned to flame, of anger burning bright.

He took up his king’s sword and headed to the hill,
Where he would meet his destiny and the empty space would fill.
The halls were long since hollow of people and of gleam,
Where once the light came shining through the windows In great beams.

Through the dark he travelled as his father had before,
Passing secret writings, of long forgotten law.
At last he found the throne where his father once did sit,
And found it’s arms chipped and torn and it’s towering back, split.

The very sight enraged him, an imposter as a king.
And then a voice inside his head, a heavenly note did sing.
He took up all his strength once more and with his father’s blade,
Did part the crown from the imposter’s head and a gaping gash he made.

Ripping the figure from it’s chair he donned the golden crown,
Then took his seat upon the throne that now was rusted brown.
Then light once more sprung to the hall and covered every crack,
Lifted rust from ancient silver and, the gleam, the hall, took back.

Plants that grew from evils seeds receded and then died
As the heavenly light it burnt them and in the searing light they cried.
Colour filled the empty hall and brought it life once more,
And the castle returned to it’s once great state that filled the world with awe.

The peasants rejoiced at the great sight and went to war on call,
They drove the rebels out of the land and watched them run and fall.
Peace came again to the town and all was bright and gleamed,
And the castles halls and towers, every day, where cleaned.

Once again the King set out to fight the Devil of flame,
The same way, like his kin he failed.
As he died, in a way, the same.