Patience warned his only son;
Not to go, or look for woe,
“Prudence is the better course”,
But Courage knew the time was right.

Crowned by Wisdom’s lost descent,
He ate his last with faithful friends,
And set upon his fateful task,
But they refused to stay.

Duty’s life and treasured school,
Had made them men, and more than that –
Aristocrats of mind and soul,
Companions to the end.

Thus they left in solemn pomp,
Beneath the banners raised,
For the glory of pride and death,
Upon their sacred hunt.

Only when the gates had shut,
And yielded their final ‘goodbye’,
Was the gravitas felt,
As a weight on them all.

Regaling the tales,
Of the path they now trod,
The way was not hidden or masked,
Save by the time and the snow.

The mount of memory passed first,
Old abode of the master,
The night was long in judgement’s shade,
But renewed for the journey to come.

Plains upon plains were the next,
To take them back to childhood,
The whimsey of play, though bordered –
By marvelous struggle refined.

At last the land where stories fail,
For lack of sources true.
A sacred place of withered hope,
Now lost to foul decay.

The peaks were high, but people base,
With rancid ways ‘neath lofty spires.
Bowing low to meet their liege:
The demon of deceit.

The demon tried to spin his lies,
But found the hero resolute,
And by the time he’d thought to run,
His reign was swiftly ended.

The plebs, they thought, would thus regain,
Their sense – lost to lies.
Instead their arms were raised in spite,
Against their liberators.

The brave companions then lost hope,
And bowed their heads to fate,
But Courage sought a different path,
And drew his loyal blade.

Words would serve as trusty shield,
Entreating that they stay,
But should their arms be pressed yet on,
His blade would have its say.

Deceit ran deep within their hearts,
So forced the party back,
But barricaded in their hall,
The roof was made a stage.

A second time the men lost hope,
Through fifty days and nights,
But cockrel’s call gave Courage say,
And none to levy challenge.

He did not cease ‘till sense relieved –
The demon of his throne,
And only then were they to leave,
At last – to home; return.

And only after fifty more,
Was Courage given grace,
He entered town a perished man,
And left – a head crowned twice.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.