This poem was written by two people, a friend of mine named Kyokki, and myself. She wrote the first verse, I wrote the second, she wrote the third, etc, till the final verse, which she also wrote.

I had a lot of fun writing it, I hope you have a lot of fun reading it.

Stories I Could Tell
By, Kyokki and Drakstern

A stone,
Untouched by the hand of man,
Resting unnoticed amidst the others
What has it seen?
What stories would it tell
If it had just the means of speech

Ah, but thence the problem lies,
For none know what the rock says,
It takes its secrets to the times
When men die,
And light has no means

It lies there worn,
By the ravage of time it rests
Perhaps in days long hence,
A hand will touch
A hand will reach
And find the beauty in the stories it imparts
Just by being what it is

Perhaps the rock that has fallen,
Broken from a column
Once touched by the hand of man,
Now changed to rubble on the ground
Has a story as well?
A spirit, perchance a soul,
Living in it from a time it was revered,
Waiting for a story to tell,
And the right to say?

For who knows what the hand
Of one holds when it crafts
What piece the sculptor imparts from itself,
Breathing his gasps of remembrance,
Saying
I once was
And perhaps I shall be again

Light once shone on me,
A great temple
Standing in a beautiful city,
Sculptured and neat,
Yet I seem to find that I have learned,
The rubble that once was spurned,
Is indeed the tale,
And I was merely a player to be shuffled
Off the stage...

To crumple in the shadows,
To be satisfied with saying
I once was,
That was I
Who held the majesty aloft
That was I
Who held a piece of the heavens
A piece sculpted
But left to its own devices ever after,
It sits in the shadows
Awaiting its genesis

A night reigned on me,
Cruel hands tore me down
And ripped my foundation
Broken for their glory,
Forgotten and charred
I find revelation in the sand
Truth from the wind
Is etched in me now,
Of the march of time,
And the length of light.
For less, I was broken
For more, I was revered,
And for worse, I am evermore

For the sand that formed me,
And the sand that is now my bed,
Will cradle me in its clutches,
Till the sun regrets to burn...
Then my stories will go with me,
The soul taken on the wind,
And I shall depart to the sand once again
Till I become once more,
A piece of untouched stone

A chip from time,
Carrying with it my story,
My soul, my light
As whole as the undivided,
As incomplete as the bits.
Again the same as me, lifted from my soul,
Lifted from my light,
And carried away on the wind,
This sand stormed from my grasp,
Carrying the story of my birth and demise,
Conception and reduction,
With it to any who listen.

And I shall whisper it on the wind,
To those who cannot hear me
To them be the dust that reddens the sun,
That chokes the air.
All unformed I shall wait
For the time when I can be
As complete as when
I was reft of wholeness,
And once more support the sky.

The work I once did, I now do again,
Another pillar in the sky,
But hollow this time,
And the men who once tore me down,
Now rely on my strength.
Thrust upward, I hold
Their minute lives in my sway,
And discharge the duty,
Standing, protecting,
Holding them from the danger of the sky,
And gaining them a foothold to the heavens.

For it is I who support their steps,
It is I who watch them falter as I stand strong
As I stand,
Again united
Against the ravages of life
That pulled me down
I now hold against.
Strong and triumphant I waver not,
My justice is that of strength.

A justice and strength tried by the ages,
Pushed once, twice,
But never broken.
And yet, again,
I feel the ravage of age,
The pain of time,
And the slow death creeping again.
Now, dependant on the ones who built
And destroyed me,
I must stand for them and myself.
But time slowly destroys
All that has been created...

I feel the past reawakening,
My majesty crumbling,
The immortal falling away from me.
I no longer support the heavens,
My soul is broken once again.
Scattered among the light I fall,
As incomplete
As I ever was of one piece.
I tumble,
Keeping only one shred of the light upon myself...
Till I become,
Over the rampage of time,
When the encroach and retreat,
A piece of untouched stone.

But what a story I could tell,
If one had ears to hear.

Like? Hate? Neutral? Leave a review. Please? - Drak