Hope Anew

Long forgotten, buried in memories old,
Lies this tale begotten, from the myths of the few bold,
Who upon their shoulders was carried, our fate and theirs,
As to have their legacy never buried, the answer to our prayers.

Of these days few memories survive, for such is their fate,
To never fully thrive. Yet in us lies, duty so great,
To remember this lore, as to avoid another such war.

Yet forgotten in time, also forgotten in mind,
And for centuries buried, at last the tale’s brought back to light,
By those who’ve been harried, by those sired by this same knight

So all ye hear and hearken, for wisdom is due,
A hope against this new omen, a hope that is all too true.
So grip this knowledge tightly, take heart and breathe anew,
Cuddling by it nightly, letting the words cut through bone and sinew.

Twenty centuries have passed, more if one begins from the start,
Since this day unsurpassed, in love, in miracle, in deeds from the heart.
Darkness all over crept, when the prophecy became flesh,
A promise which heeds all those who wept, to make hope and life once more fresh.

A foe merrily ruled the land, much like what we have at hand,
A darkness not heeded, which brought pain not needed,
Through strive, through famine, through disease; his hunger was never appeased.

A similar foe rules today, kept in check, barely at bay,
By a handful of brave, a handful not deprave.
These are the heirs to the throne, brothers in blood, brothers in soul,
These are the ones who atone, the ones who seek to be made whole.

Yet as in all dark times a hero arose, to change our fate, to challenge all foes.
Bravely he stood and in defiance he lived, preparing the path, our salvation so swift,
Walking in light, walking in grace, sharing a life which all sought to embrace.

The king upon his throne sat, a throne of pain, a throne of blood,
Nourished content and fat, while the people ailed with crud.
The king seemed to care not, of all else besides him he utterly forgot.

Injustice he imparted to old and young, reigning merrily free of threat and want,
Yet hearing the prophecy its meaning stung, leaving this fat selfish monarch all but daunt.
Rising swiftly, filled with despair, he made his face solemn for all to bear,
Turning fear to ire he ordered a hunt, dispatched all the army up to the very last grunt.

To bring the saviour’s head they had, to hunt and kill like wolves gone mad,
Obey they did, their souls being his, children slit as if nothing amiss.
Yet hope anew arose, despite the chaos brought by the foes,
For here the hero was saved, spirited away, never to be enslaved.

And so the years went by, the time of freedom ever more nigh.
The tyrant monarch restless grew, his fear consuming, his downfall too true.
A decade times three came and went, nothing ever diminishing his torment.

Day and night he trembled and despaired, knowing his doom to be prepared,
To escape from fate he could not, of all else besides the hero he forgot.
Obsession ravaged his mind, his body and soul followed close behind.
Estranged from the world he became, enclosed in his own madness never tamed.

And so another myth was born, of the cruel tyrant upon the throne,
Never dying, his people forever forlorn, his cruelty and malice having only grown,
To him by folklore immortality bestowed, in nightmares alone he now abode.

Of the hero people forgot, the prophecy legends and myth became,
His name uttered was not, his birth and memory rapidly losing fame.
Yet when time was ripe he started his quest, to rid the land of tyrant so obsessed.

From town to town he went, showing the people their torment,
Denouncing the crimes of the crown, his fame like fire spread all around.
Followers his cause gained, their respect and admiration obtained,
By one so humble yet proud, one who touched the hearts of the crowd.

Messengers he named and away they were sent, to spread the news of the hero they went,
News of life, news of freedom renewed, news that no person should exclude.
They summoned the brave and the bold, summoned they for whom fate would unfold.
A revolt he planned, to face the king he meant, on freeing his people his will was bent.

Of this the malevolent king learnt, hate and fear on his soul burnt.
To kill the hero, to kill the hope, this only solution could his mind grope,
To destroy his memory, to stop his crusade, of this inciter and rebel became afraid.

His time was nigh, his doom at hand, yet fall he won’t without a last stand.
He summoned his forces, he summoned his spies, he summoned all bringers of demise.
The tyrant arose, the king now stood, to ride out and guide his army he would,
He marched out to battle, he marched out to fate, he went to destroy the target of his hate.

The people arose and the summons they heeded, a change of fate the desperately needed.
To the hero they went with arms in hands, their blood they offered to free their lands,
Peasants and farmers, soldiers and guards, of such a mighty army sing the bards.

On the field of the skull the met, two huge armies which bespoke of threat,
Threat of doom, threat of change, with a king barely sane on brink of derange,
Of truce and arrangements he cared not, in blind blood lust he was caught.

Utter silence fell on both crowds, in fear and hope they were shroud,
Fear of death, hope of life, yet all looking forward to strife.
The hero came to the front sword in hand, the army was his to command.
And as the drums of war began playing, hearts and souls began swaying.

The king’s horns of war first blew, into frenzy this his soldier’s threw,
Under a spell of blood, a king of gone mad, gone was the humanity they once had.
Demons of blood, fiends of gore they were, the witch king left no room to err,
An ancient shadow cast upon the host, and an evil transformation fell on most.

The hero this noticed as did his men, fear and doubt growing in them again.
Yet our hero this saw and acted fast, with a loud war cry he charged at last,
“Unto me brave men of Gwyer” he cried, “It is to a life of freedom that we ride!”

In no man’s land they loudly clashed, against the shields many a man smashed,
With cries of pain scores of men fell, for hours on end the victor impossible to tell.
Day and night, night and day, continuously the fought without dismay,
To give their lives they had come, and while having breath they would not succumb.

A fortnight if not more did the battle last, before the die seemed to be cast,
In favour of the king the tide went, rendering his selfish heart quite content.
Yet peace and glee he had not, for the hero had still not been caught.

Impatience at last swayed his heart, the ruling king charged with a start,
His fury was great with hunger and desire, no man or beast could stand his ire,
He cut through the ranks ever so swiftly, of only one foe his mind worried chiefly.

A deafening cry pierced the air, startling the hero, filling his host with despair,
They all parted giving way to the king, thus forming around both a fighting ring.
The king sitting tall upon his horse, glared in contempt at one so mighty,
He it was who of his fear has been the source, the one who slain would be so rightly.

“Prepare yourself, your bells have tolled! I am here for all to behold,
How beneath my might you succumb! Cry for mercy; your reaper has come!"
At the king’s words all around trembled, all battle ceased to see what this becomes,
The entire host in awe assembled, the only faint sound being that of the war drums.

Shrinking not but standing proud and tall, the hero cried this as to be heard by all,
“You threats are void as is your heart! Tremble I do not, neither do I fear!
The time has come for you to depart, your demise now draws quite near!”

“Then come and meet terror and death! Let this farce be over and done!
I shall see you draw your last breath, that all you efforts are undone!
Your ideals and dreams will now cease to be, and with it your band of rebellious scum!
The only king they’ll ever know is me, the only hope they shall ever have is none!”

“Your terror is over, the nightmare is done! The Night passed away, morning has come!
Slay me you might, destroy me is your will, but my ideals and dreams thou shall not kill!
To perish in battle might my fate, yet for your ruling the hour is all too late!”

“Cease your babbling you pestering fool! The full strength of my power you know not!
If you think that so far I have been cruel, I shall teach you better wisdom in this very spot!
Behold your demise, behold your downfall, behold the god who this people shall enthral!”

“You fashion yourself immortal, you fashion yourself undying,
I shall render you utterly mortal, wounded, prostrated and for death crying!
Cease this talk, cease this threat! To your reign I shall put an end!
Face me in battle, dismount and regret, for to Hades your soul I shall send!”

With those words said the hero took his stand, teasing the monarch with sword in hand.
The evil ruler believe his ears he could not, this insect had cursed him in front of the lot!
A challenge had been cast by one so daring, decline it he could not, for that would be erring
Rising to the challenge dismount he did, already laughing while his own fear he hid.

“So the deer defies the wolf’s might, the prey believes he can win the struggle.
Come now; you shall die before this knight, you shall lie in your own blood’s puddle!”
Rising high and standing tall, this sovereign king was amazing to behold.

As one they both charged to the battle, their footsteps silencing all other rattle.
Loudly their swords clashed in the field, their postures perfect, none would yield.
Like distant thunder they sounded, and as bright lightning they seemed,
The host was now confounded, how come their swords so gleamed.

The king clad in full black plate, was quite a sight to behold,
He looked liked a god of hate, like one of the demons of old.
His sword red as his ire, it gleamed as if alight with fire.

The hero clad in silver armour, shone quite bright in contrast,
His very presence seemed like glamour, the difference being quite so vast.
Shield raised high and sword in the ready, he seemed the victor already.

Nigh an hour the fiercely fought, of the other’s demise they only thought.
With waning strength, tired and bleeding, now the hero seemed to be succeeding!
Yet the betraying king lose would not, with a raised had a spell he shot,
“Weak cur ‘tis you I spurn! Now feel, hell flame’s burn!”

Crimson flames sprouting on his body, his spirit already beginning to disembody,
The hero shouted falling on his knees, as he allowed his body his spirit to release;
“Soldiers do not despair, but rather for victory you must prepare!
My sacrifice shall set you free tonight, fight and bring victory to this holy knight!”

With that his body shattered, his spirit over the entire host was scattered,
Renewed strength and power they gained, what had happened they could not explain.
Yet upon that terrible sight, they heartened and at once fiercely renewed their fight.

The king what happened knew not, how had his victory been robbed at the spot?
From where did the peasants such vigour claimed, such power by him could not be named.
His dark powers now were of no avail, his kingdom for long would not prevail.
As a growing vast tide on him they fell, try as he might, he could only yell.

On that day his evil reign was overthrown, and to the people now belongs his throne.
The monarch died yet was not utterly defeated, his power all but depleted.
His evil spirit lingers still, using his power to bring on us ill.

It bears memories of old, it bears doom to all.
A red sun rises today again, A red sun that despairs all men,
Memories of carnage and gore, memories forgotten nevermore.

Ravaging all who stand oppose, vicious fiends, enmities of old,
Demons who summon all woes, spirits of horrors untold.
Yet a hero must arise, a with him hope make anew
The hero who in us resides, the hero who is always true.

Him who defies carnage and gore, and is spoken of in ancient lore,
Him who death can not keep, and who comforts all those who weep.
He is the one who rallies you to his side, the one who in you wants to abide.
Make your stand, forget the past, your true hero and saviour has arrived at last.

So cast away all doubt, and in joy begin to shout,
For the drums of war fall silent, and with it all who are violent.
So make a stand, and make no move, for your life is about to improve.