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    Tales of the Shattered Crystal

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      Oh, my sweet William,

      They shouldn't have done this.

      With hate in my heart I will go;

      Bearing arms I will vanquish the foe.

      ***

      One Small Sparrow

      Come, sit with me tonight, my love,

      Weep not for the sparrow.

      'Twas thoughtlessness that killed him dead

      When you shot your arrow.

      'Tis thoughtlessness that kills a king

      And topples an empire.

      'Tis thoughtlessness that kills true love,

      Robs passion of its fire.

      'Tis thoughtlessness 'twill end the world

      Someday when it is older.

      Let not the weight of one small bird

      Lay heavy on your shoulder.

      But, remember well, my little lad,

      When next you shoot an arrow,

      It might well be the world you spear

      Instead of one small sparrow.

      ***

      Sanyon

      There is no haven in this world

      Except for the Sayon's tower;

      There is no freedom on this earth

      Save for the wind and the flower.

      For Tarrel rules with an iron hand

      In a land as hard as he;

      And the peasant's back is bent and broke

      By the weight of poverty.

      But who'll fight back, who'll stand alone,

      Who'll bring the tyrant down?

      What man is there among these sheep

      With nerve to crush a crown?

      No one there spoke nor raised his head;

      They stood with down cast eyes;

      This gathering of so-called men

      Beneath the cold, grey sky.

      White lightning flashed and thunder rolled,

      Blue smoke rose from the north.

      Then through the haze a mighty knight

      In armor sauntered forth.

      All done in black from head to foot

      No bit of flesh unsheathed,

      And powerful the metal shell

      Was built for him beneath.

      Around his head a silver crown

      Glittered pure and bright,

      While on his breast a silver cross

      Fair glowed with its own light.

      And with his gauntlet covered hand

      He raised the heavy sword.

      The downfall of the tyrant then

      He swore upon his soul.

      The awe-struck crowd bent low their heads;

      They fell upon their knees

      And loudly blessed the stranger, dark,

      Upon his lusty steed.

      The war horse snorted fire and ash;

      It's black hooves pawed the earth.

      The timid town folk scurried back

      And silently disbursed.

      He galloped down the dusty road

      So fast he seemed to fly,

      Towards the grim black tower that stood

      Outlined against the sky.

      The wild wind shrieked a devil's curse.

      He bent beneath the blast

      As it shattered trees, stripped the leaves,

      And tore away the grass.

      The heaven's boiled and bolts of blue

      Fled ragged 'cross the sky.

      The valiant warrior gripped the hilt

      And prepared himself to fight.

      The song of Fanon filled the air,

      Mournful as a child's cry,

      And when it reached the final note

      The violent tempest died.

      And all the world was silent then

      As he shrieked his battle cry.

      He spurred the beast, rage in his heart,

      And death was in his eye.

      Across the cold black moor they raced,

      The warrior on his steed,

      And fate hung 'round him like a cloak

      Balanced on his deed.

      He drew the war horse to a halt

      Outside the great stone wall,

      And leaping from his saddled cried,

      "Nomis, Nomig, Nomall!"

      Then at his side the brotherhood

      Of Sayon grimly stood,

      Their bony faces glowing white

      Beneath their dark green hoods.

      So solemnly they ringed the tower;

      Their hands pressed 'ginst the stone,

      And muttered spells, enchanted runes,

      In gruffy undertones,

      That caused the battlements to shake

      And quiver 'til they cracked.

      The great door burst its metal bonds

      And the Sayons faded back.

      Alone, the mighty warrior stood,

      His sword was glowing white

      As Tarrel huddled in the dark

      And shivered in his fright.

      The captain gathered up his troops;

      In haste they drew their swords.

      The gallant warrior gave salute

      Then flew into the horde.

      The metal clang, death's rattled shriek'

      The cry of agony.

      The blood, the sweat, the liquid fear,

      The horror of man's debris.

      How sickening the hall became;

      How sickening was death.

      So revolting was the stench that rose,

      The black knight held his breath.

      He waded through the blood and gore

      To twisted, winding stairs

      That led to an inner chamber,

      And Terral waited there.

      With metal foot the hero kicked

      The oaken door aside.

      A wicked barb-end lance went woosh

      And cut him in mid-stride.

      His noble breast was ripped and torn;

      His heart was split in half.

      Surprise, then rage played on his face;

      He broke the wooden shaft.

      Tossing it away, he raised

      His sword above his head.

      His wrath was horrible to see;

      The room was soaked in red.

      What was left of the evil Terral,

      Could fit into one hand.

      He'd broke the bonds of tyranny

      And freed a desperate land.

      Though dying, still he stumbled down

      And climbed upon his horse.

      Like a silent ship that sails the seas,

      'Long the road he set his course,

      To the shining tower of Sayon

      Across the purple moor,

      Through the winding streets of the town,

      Towards the rocky shore.

      As flames fanned by the western wind,

      The word spread through the town.

      From every shop and every house

      The people gathered 'round.

      Like timid rabbits, poised for flight,

      They lined the streets and stared;

      Uncertain of the future now,

      Their hearts were filled with terr'r.

      For though the villain Terral's rule

      Was harsh and cruel and grim,

      Still everything was decided

      Without a thought from them.

      And who would do their thinking now?

      Their futures loomed unclear.

      And as he passed, breathing his last,

      Not one man even cheered.

      ***

      Sing In The Sunshine

      Sing in the sunshine,

      Dance in the shade.

      All lads and lassies

      Come meet in the glade.

      Young love is the reason

      The springtime was made.

      Come all lads and lassies,

      Do as you're bade.

      Sing in the sunshine

      Before it fades.

      Love in the shadows,

      Don't be afraid,

      For old age is the time

      When all debts should be paid,

      And youth is expected

      Sometimes to stray.

    &
    nbsp; Love in the sunshine,

      Untangle your braids

      Beneath the great trees

      As green as jade.

      The daylight is waning

      And shadows will play

      On the face of your lover

      At close of day.

      ***

      The Bed

      They were gathered around the fire that night

      And all of the spirits were locked out tight,

      When the old man looked around and said,

      "Who the hell tore up the bed?"

      But no one there would dare admit

      He'd e'en been in the same room with it.

      Their eyes rolled innocently 'round the room,

      'Til the old man fetched the great straw broom

      And he beat them soundly one by one,

      And kicked their pants when he was done.

      Then finally the youngest said,

      "I don't give a damn about the bed!"

      And the old man's heart was truly broke

      When he heard the words his son had spoke.

      He clutched his chest and gave a sigh;

      A small tear trickled from his eye.

      "Oh, what's to become of us all," he said,

      "When a man's own sons tear up the bed?"

      ***

      The Black Ship

      The ragged clouds tore 'cross the sky

      And the black ship seemed to almost fly,

      As it cut its way through the pounding waves

      In search of souls to make it's slaves,

      And old sea dogs fell on their knees

      When black sails billowed in the breeze.

      'Twas said the cruelest pirates sailed

      On that vile ship from the port of Hell,

      And on the bridge, in a velvet coat,

      Stood Satan, captain of the boat.

      'Twas the fourth of June in 'eighty-three;

      The fog was thick on Greenway Sea,

      Nerves were strung tight among the crew

      When the good ship, Maggie Rose, broke through

      Into a patch of clear, grey sea.

      The water's motion seemed to cease.

      They'd lost the wind and the sails hung slack,

      As empty as a beggar's sack,

      When bearing down upon them came

      The ship from Hell that had no name.

      'Cross the flat mirrored sea, its black hull sliced

      And each man's heart was turned to ice.

      Numb with fear, they shrieked their pleas

      And fell to the deck upon their knees.

      Then o'er the cries of the half-mad crowd

      A voice rang out, strong and proud,

      "They'll not take us without a fight!

      Get off your knees, you cowardly blight!"

      They stopped their frantic mumbled prayers

      And turned to gaze at the wooden stairs

      That led to the bridge, where, cutlass raised

      Stood a young lieutenant, tall and brave.

      They met the challenge in his eyes

      As he commanded them once again to rise.

      They drew their weapons, once more men,

      And the pirate ship bore down on them.

      The commander rose to his feet, ashamed

      Of his weakness, shouting, "Take your aim,

      Gun captains! Fire!" The cannons roared,

      Grey smoke rose and the black balls soared.

      The black ship brought its broadside round;

      It's bristling guns began to pound

      The Maggie Rose, as she pulled to port

      And Satan swore he would abort

      Their efforts to cross the black ship's stern,

      As he maneuvered his ship in turn.

      The battle became a duel of wits,

      While cannons shattered both the ships.

      The range was close, the damage great,

      And the wounded screamed from the bloody planks.

      The devil ordered his grappling cast;

      It hooked the Rose and held her fast.

      At this point in the battle's rage

      It reached a much more violent stage,

      For musket fire and thrown grenades

      Kept the decks near-cleared durin' the fusillades.

      And all the while the cannon's blazed

      On both the ships at point-blank range.

      There was fire and smoke and the blood ran red,

      Screams from the wounded, silence from the dead.

      It seemed there was not an inch unhit;

      The woodwork was all smashed to bits

      And strewn over half the ocean.

      Then amid the carnage and commotion

      The hand of God reached down from heaven

      To aid a seaman who was mannin'

      The Rose's tops, for his hand-grenade

      Went directly down the black's hatchway.

      Exploding ammo set the ship a-fire,

      The mainmast cracked and the flames shot higher.

      On the Rose they could hear the crackling beams,

      Their eyes fiery red from the smoke and steam,

      And they heard the curses of evil men

      When they found the devil'd abandoned them.

      Then a few feet away, on the deck of the black

      They saw the form of a pirate jack.

      He shouted, "We give and ask for quarter!"

      "All I'll give to you, sir, is the water!"

      The commander shouted; the cannons roared

      And they sent them down to the ocean's floor.

      ***

      The Cause

      We fought and we clawed,

      Like a band of outlaws,

      And we laid down our lives for the cause.

      While they dangled the prize

      Before our blind eyes,

      And we trusted in all of their lies.

      There were none more naive

      Than we who believed,

      And we valued their words of deceit.

      For a small crumb of praise

      We marched off to our graves,

      Surrendering our last precious days.

      And then it was done,

      Long before it was won,

      They sold us out, each mother's son.

      We were all sacrificed

      On their altar of lies,

      And a fragment of power their price.

      ***

      The Conquered

      There's war a-comin' the old folk say

      And all the young men will be gone,

      Marching in ranks, step by step,

      In time to the warrior's drum.

      We'll stand by the road to see them off,

      Wave our banners, shout and cheer,

      Afraid the thing won't last a week;

      Not dreaming it'd last for years.

      Oh, where are all the pretty young boys

      Who marched down the dusty road,

      Wearing their colours proudly,

      On that day so long ago?

      Where are the girls who danced at their sides,

      Their ribbons blown in the breeze,

      As they pulled them from their hair

      To tie to a young man's sleeve?

      Where are the children too young to go?

      They watched with envious eyes

      Their fathers and their brothers

      As they marched away to die.

      And who'll be on hand to ring the bells

      When they've made the long march home?

      There's so many lost and gone

      And so many now unknown.

      And who'll dance by their sides with ribbons

      Along the burned out streets?

      Who cheers for the young men now,

      When they come home in defeat?

      ***

      The Lady of Iseldare

      When you walked through the forest of Iseldare

      Did you see the lady with scarlet hair?

      Did she dance 'neath the moon, while blossoms rained

      From trees i
    n a way that was unexplained?

      In a gauzy gown that seemed to glitter,

      Did you watch her as she flew and flittered,

      Gliding gracefully between the oaks

      To the guttural tune of a tree-frog's croak?

      Was there a soft mist in the evening air,

      So you convinced yourself she was not there?

      But she was, you know it and so do I.

      She remains forever impressed on our minds.

      ***

      The Lonely Sentinel

      He lights himself a cigarette,

      The match a tiny spark

      That flickers for a moment,

      Then is lost again in dark,

      And the wreath of smoke above him

      Is invisible and still

      As he stands among the poplars;

      The lonely sentinel.

      He stands in every weather,

      In the snow and in the rain.

      His eyes are ever watchful

      And his ears are ever strained.

      He guards us with his vigilance

      And he does his duty well,

      For he's the hope of all free men;

      The lonely sentinel.

      ***

      The Mad Queen

      "Stop the wind, it makes me think

      And I cannot bear the thoughts that gnaw at me."

      The shadows hid her eyes

      As she tottered at the edge of sanity.

      In torment she did cry

      As she cursed the world and all who drew a breath.

      She pleaded first with God,

      Then the devil for the mercy of sweet death.

      "Why is it that the Fates

      Take pleasure tempting weak-willed fools like me?

      Oh, where is the sport of it?

      They knew before we started how it'd be.

      I found my way to power

      Through the path of blood's betrayal and disgrace,

      But they have their revenge now,

      For I cannot sleep but that I see each face.

      They grin at me, or groan,

      Or shriek until my head beats like a martial drum.

      And in that endless darkness,

      Worse than death lies waiting for me to come.

      Oh, where is the sport of it?

      Each victim whirls against my weary eyelids,

      And the wind is like their cries

      As they crawl, taunting, from the graves where they were hid.

      Is there no justice now?

      Where is the headman's axe to end my torment?

      They dare not kill a queen,

      Not even one who's mad and cannot sleep.

      They whisper in the shadows,

      Exchange glances, for they guess the truth of it

      But would not speak aloud,

      Pointing fingers, crying, "Murderer!" How fit

      That I, who sent so many

      To untimely deaths, should find myself so robbed.

      Perhaps it's justice after all!"

      And her bitter laughter broke into a sob.

      ***

      The Maid in The Field

      A young maiden sat in a golden field

      Plucking at scarlet flowers

     
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