Hark the hero, standing tall, a world of dark before him.
Gold, he shines as bronze worn bright,
Perched upon a parapet, the rampart he was rampant.
A testament to Courage, admired by nations, the man for any moment.
Gather, look, what’s lost beneath the light?
Golden shoes worn thin from miles by
Knees bright from bended kneeling,
Hands shimmer from work long forgotten,
Quill hangs, ink-stained, elbows shining.
Shoulders strong, braced for burden.
Wizened lines from laughter wild,
As stories spread and seasons sleep
To change his countenance.
A crown thrice-scribed by Transcendentals upon his brow.
Sword and torch balanced in hand.
Unflinching focus, unfailing faith,
Nerve to ne’er falter.
The fools flock as flies to flesh,
Taking bites where he is weakest.
Blazer blown as bullets by,
Below, Pools of blood, wounds from foes-thought-friends
Behold those behind him…
A wife crushed beneath the burden of a missing husband.
Puddles of numbered candles waiting to be snuffed.
Children, long awake, crying for cuddles.
A house that fades while he builds others.
This titan has grown tired.
Who will answer the call?
The cost must be considered.
Fame is fleeting.
Hours are horrible.
Those who bite and devour are always near.
Yet…
One person can change the world.
Who will be the one?