Part One Dark hues overhead Binding frostbite rising, Feet drag beneath. Hands clenched From the bitter cold desert stretch. Dark hues overhead scared him not, Binding frostbite only scored his will to continue on. Feet drag but legs fail him not, Hands clench a promising hilt to rip away life. Imbued darkness on twilight, Revealing the glow on north to face mere stringent walls. Never a man Solicitous in intent, Freshly drawn inside. Hung out With vultures on this desert stretch. Never a man so sure than this to be, Never to abandon that which he strives over encrusted terrains. Freshly drawn and quartered are beliefs, Hung out to die in the yawning abyss of their dreams. Make of a man for whom truth eyes, Maker of men for whose matchless guile is the call of the wild. Stirring dust storms Rising from the ground, Choking breath down. All goals laid out Like an endless stretch of desert. Stirring dust storms warn of lassitude, The rising towers of the city ahead beg disbelief. If all goals be forgotten, May the mind then be lost in endless fascination. But eyes filled with truth look forward, The mind perceives that which anticipates death by blade. Morning aglow Where sunlight glances, Sand heats the feet below. A trodden path Behind lies the endless stretch. Morning aglow on the spires ahead, Sunlight casts its glances on steps that grace sands between. For sand is not a growing barrier, But the trodden path of the dead reckoning of skeletons. They lie in wait for a saviour, But no Christ is he to forgive their appeasements. Part Two Feet work over a bony stretch Cracking ribs and skulls into the dust of forgotten pasts. Gates rise up to resist encroachment, Swords flare in the morning light of sentinel duty. If all practice made perfect, Then the death of sentinels be a touching reminder. Morning encroaches within the city, What the gates do not hold back revelations are to keep. Here like meandering wardens, Within these stringent walls walk embittered wills. They in their daily task of subsistence, Marauding maunders draining from life it's blood and soul. He himself a shadow pique, Disturbing the grounds of shallow hope where denouement waits. Littered with thieves and queens, Creeping among the stalls he gropes molesting fate. A blood filled dream of vengeance To replace the burning thought of patricide. He passes by in remote leisure, Wonders of the vision distracting from the desired course. He juxtaposes the craving with need, And a sense of unfulfilment from a lesser Stately greed. Hands unclench and now reach out, Taking from the stalls their fruits of other men’s labours. He plays in the gardens where lovers lie, Dodging questions that persist in fair maidens’ eyes. Masked by his own enduring quest, He satiates this distant cry that meditates in his mind. It remains to be seen what will lead astray Such is a driven man that he rises to excuse his mannerly conduct. Forth must he go to face a cause, Strengthening each moment in its growing requirements. Separated from their world of games, Partied with pleasure and songs that serenade the night. He sets off now in search of the courts Where all news of his arrival will set this day into motion. Part Three A creeping man he stalks the walls, Secretly his blade slips into the folding bones of garments. Where blood flows and drains life, He leaves with a new desire satiated in it’s deathly grip. Vengeance welcomes this day That allows regicide to burn with pride. Steps lead to chambers of maidens, Their fear of ends ruling over a King’s betrayal. Steps lead to chambers of shadows, Fear of exposure in their nightly whims of apostasy. Steps lead further still to chambers Amongst the people of this empery, where delightful fear Saves their skin hides so bare. In delight now turned to fear for their duty. . . . [Extra Verses] Matriarchal betrayal From the fear in their eyes . He cries upon the sand as he kneels, Shallowed vengeance a mocking call that buries his needs. Blood is on his hands crusting in the drying sun He falls to the ground a fool amongst skeletons For the desire to kill in the name of vengeance Has drawn away the will and claimed penitence.
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