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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
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