Beneath the flaming, wild, darkened eyes,
Lies a world of shadow
That no one dares a step to forward take
For that which lives deep inside
Begets a birth of wings lost sake
Into the charming bliss of murky desires,
And withering, smoldering, blackened fires
That claims your heart in winter’s hearth,
Seeping through the arteries of lasting dreams
Forgotten as the one who enters
Dares not you so good to deem
As the clouded judgment would feign to show
A secret soil that has itself shaped
Under the mask of sorrow, loss, and a plea
To the mold that once created your soul in white
And yearning for glory anew in three that falsely
Lead the people into a kingdom upon the Lake
Of sulfur clasp and breathing fires,
Back to which the one who enters
Came riding in on horses rapid
To announce itself
In mirth,
For
Now the mask no longer its prisoner shadows
As one has yet to this one glimpse,
As the wings of sake far lost fly again,
And the eyes of inequity take their place
To the forefront of this crest quite earthen,
Ending the prayers and dreams of many
Who would end its reign,
With pages at hand,
Swords at side,
Crosses Holy,
To defeat this wondrous Beast
A final time—

But amused it is,
As the attempts so feebly-conceived
Bleed the tears of pain long-fought
And neverending—

Thus forth
The Stranger lives.