Upon the field where morning dew once lay,
Two kings stood fast to greet the break of day.
One, cloaked in dirt with battle in his stride,
The other, dressed in steel and royal pride.
King Azapar, though worn by war’s cruel hand,
Still led his few, a fractured, faithful band.
No home remained, no refuge left to find,
Yet in their hearts, the flame refused to die.
King Baldelm sat upon his throne of might,
His army vast, his rule defined by fight.
Yet in their ranks, no fire stirred inside,
For war was but a burden to abide.
The storm arose; the skies began to wail,
As fate inscribed the sorrow in its tale.
The swords did clash, the earth was stained with red,
As hope and fear danced wildly with the dead.
Though Azapar was drowned in tides of foes,
A truth was clear as battle reached its close:
A man may stand in numbers vast and tall,
Yet hearts unbound shall rise above them all.
And though the night may swallow hope in dark,
The stars still gleam, a light to leave its mark.
For kings may rule, their names may forge a past,
But only love and faith shall ever last.
ImpChimp Art 