So many feelings he thought he’d forgotten,
Hopelessly, woefully, vainly besotted,
An oath not to fall, broken and shattered,
A heart full of fear, scattered and battered,
Butterflies breed in a stomach so empty,
Daydreams tantalize, so blissful and tempting.
Vague memories of a time before madness,
Intrude on the poet, swallowed by sadness,
The pen scribbles slowly across the page,
Granting silent voice to inexorable rage,
A rhyme for the sorrows, a rhyme for the tears,
Thousands of lines speaking softly of fears.
Memories mingle and mix with the present,
Hist’ry repeats, once again less than pleasant,
Remembrance screams to re-lock the door,
And repress the daydreams the memories abhor.
However, within the visions of pain,
A feeling so fleeting, almost in vain,
An honor, a duty, a promise to keep,
The reason to wake from each nightmarish sleep,
For once long ago, before he was broken,
The poet was gifted two carved wooden tokens.
Gripping the wood tightly between his fingers,
The rhymer remembers the feelings that lingered,
Terrified, yet entranced, he gingerly reaches,
For the strength deep inside he once thought depleted,
The author finds solace in the honor he kept,
Despite all the tears that were never quite wept.
Once more finds the courage to risk for a wish,
All that he has for the bliss of a kiss,
The Knight smiles gently, his gaze on the sky,
Cloudless, unbroken azure mirrors his eyes,
Takes up his old sword, rusted by grief,
Relief, oh so sweet, and a promise to keep.
Whispering wistfully under his breath,
The Knight makes his new promise with no hint of regret.