“Trust in thyself”
Born within this world, a mighty warrior,
Whose strengths soar with outright vigor.
Then comes those foolish enough to taunt,
But alas, they could not destroy the warrior they fought.
How powerful can one be without thy support?
For this one is an enigma, one devoid of any ally.
He hops to and fro between familiar shadows—
In lands he is known, yet he is alone.
Once, he was benevolent— for the people he was, a shield, a guide, a light.
He was one that shaped the weary into might.
But kindness, in time, was met with deceit,
And so, he walked where no hearts beat.
The winds know him, but they do not call.
The stars see him, but they do not approach.
The rivers remind him, but they keep on with rush.
The willows taunt him, and soon they are cut.
His past relentlessly whispers, yet none dare tread on anything delicate.
Whispers that spark thought.
Thoughts that provoke.
Does the warrior walk in thine own expense?
Or is he but a pathetic little bird with wings much too broken?
A soul meant to soar, yet bound eternally to Gaia.
