The Templar
If nothing was true, and everything was permitted,
We would be due, to a fate worse than death-admitted,
Our eyes would be blind, our voice be silenced,
The prophets life, shall soon lose license,
The Arbiter roars, the Soldier is born,
This small planet, is rendered war-torn,
We took the fight, to a foreign land,
With a common people, that shook our hand,
The People laughed, The Corrupt Men lied,
Because today, the warrior has finally died,
A roar cries out, "Vengeance be mine! ",
And a figure arises, unholy divine,
Revived and new, the Soldier shall fight,
To bring a new end, to the corrupted knight.
poem by Chris Beschutzer Walston
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.