When A Hero Dies.
Posted: Mon Jan 23, 2006 11:07 am
The sun fades. And heros die. All of their tales will never be told.
How they stood in isolation upon ancient cliffs, weathered with time, shouldering the burdens of the safety of others, the wind whipping the last tear their ironhard hearts can squeeze out off of their faces.
How they trembled at the touch of their lovers embrace, holding them in a moment that seemed eternity, wishing that every moment could be spent sitting in a chair with their lover playfully giggling while being tickled.
How they raged at the lawlessness they faced everyday, hearing plea upon hopeless plea for justice and never being able to deliver it absolute, the knowledge that they can not do more tearing at their souls like a million speared army.
How they stood grinning, teaching the young the right way to hold a sword, how to sharpen it and care for it, the stance to dance upon those taller than they, the dreams that they too could hold and fulfill.
THe laughter shared across the room, as bards performed at their best and fireworks lit up the sky with marvelous hues and drinks were passed round without abandon.
THese tales will never be told, for the sun has set on them. All is quiet for the briefest of moments, all is stilled. And in that moment, the wind whispers softly, faintly, as if a final caress from them "I was here. And I thank you." ANd after that moment, lay a cold stone.
And many years will pass, those who knew will fade, and someone will see the stone and venture to ask....I wonder....who were they?
How they stood in isolation upon ancient cliffs, weathered with time, shouldering the burdens of the safety of others, the wind whipping the last tear their ironhard hearts can squeeze out off of their faces.
How they trembled at the touch of their lovers embrace, holding them in a moment that seemed eternity, wishing that every moment could be spent sitting in a chair with their lover playfully giggling while being tickled.
How they raged at the lawlessness they faced everyday, hearing plea upon hopeless plea for justice and never being able to deliver it absolute, the knowledge that they can not do more tearing at their souls like a million speared army.
How they stood grinning, teaching the young the right way to hold a sword, how to sharpen it and care for it, the stance to dance upon those taller than they, the dreams that they too could hold and fulfill.
THe laughter shared across the room, as bards performed at their best and fireworks lit up the sky with marvelous hues and drinks were passed round without abandon.
THese tales will never be told, for the sun has set on them. All is quiet for the briefest of moments, all is stilled. And in that moment, the wind whispers softly, faintly, as if a final caress from them "I was here. And I thank you." ANd after that moment, lay a cold stone.
And many years will pass, those who knew will fade, and someone will see the stone and venture to ask....I wonder....who were they?
)