legendarium

 the hero is the one who has to die
and then come back from past the iron gate
the master not the victim of hard fate
who's looked the darkest god right in the eye
and then returned to look upon the sky
his is dominion of the nether state
michief resiles and leaves no lasting freight
he holds as one the golden truth and lie
bees hidden in the music now explode
leaving their honey in the hive behind
no one would now how long the serpent curled
another monster now must block the road
to torment and to terrify each mind
such is the manner of the living world

there are no fires

 

there are no fires upon the beacon hill
where armies marched long silence now must fall
no fair folk gather by the pond and rill

only dust gathers at the broken mill
no one will answer at the last bird's call
there are no fires upon the beacon hill

no cheerful maiden comes to clear the spill
the tackle rots beside the empty stall
no fair folk gather by the pond and rill

no swine are left to swallow the last swill
upon the wall no hungry spiders crawl
there are no fires upon the beacon hill

no scavengers appear to eat their fill
the lizard has no kingship in the hall
no fair folk gather by the pond and rill

nothing will matter in the end of skill
no human power will rise above the small
there are no fires upon the beacon hill
no fair folk gather by the pond and rill