Rough and rugged rage overtook,
His thunderous voice, the earth shook.
Clenching hands, gnashing of teeth,
Trying to control the voices beneath
Spells cast, death he willed to rise,
Evil’s spawn, hatred, ruin, and lies.
None could yield power such as he,
Not even his brother could set his soul free.
Birth had decreed him master of the human race,
Many years it had taken, but now he was in his place.
Twas time he laid bare the task at hand,
And unravel all that was pure in this land.
His sacrifice before him, ill winds did blow,
Was not the one he wished to lay low.
Ah the Lady so pure, gentle, and true,
Over the years his hatred for her grew.
His brother, now he wished for his soul,
But of course, the Lady was in control.
Her whereabouts remained a mystery to comprehend,
But her Hero heard her voice upon the wind.
Ancient mysteries, their black magic could not control,
Evil has no power, of a God filled soul.
Hero feels her near, his heart feels her rainbow of tears,
This battle he ends, to still her fears.
© Cynthia Clark