The warrior stood tall and bold
yet not too brave for he’d grown old
and watched strangers roam his land.
At one time he’d have laid them dead
but now he watched his own break bread
and sit and talk with this strange band.
He mounted and rode out of sight
to the west and it’s waning light
to query the spirits found there.
He asked them why his land was left
for others gain, his own bereft,
found only shame in their stare.
Land was left for you to protect
lazy you were, full of neglect
Land went fallow then wild, now spent.
Return I now to my old place,
death assures me her cold embrace.
My heart now lies where it was wrent.
Strangers walk above my old bones,
wooden husk encircled with stones,
but by right I am with them still.
Though I failed to keep my birthright
I lie in it deep out of sight
a festering boil, full of will.
I will enflame the land with woe
and sterilize the seed you sow
starving you for your betrayals.
The poisoned land that was once sweet
will proffer noone food to eat
A final end to all our tales.
If I could have just one more night
I’d fly far carrying this blight
that it might infect your own land
The death of all that you hold dear,
The loss of love, the shame of fear
that you might know what I did stand.