Disclaimer – FFVIII and all assorted character do not belong to me. Poem does, however.
Nemean
Storm-blue scarce blackened, and midnight's blank stare
Blood-born and hungry. The hunter's bleak glare
To make of a meaning what you would believe –
The lion in mourning. For what does he grieve?
OOO
Frozen in form by the darktime's chill rain
Wrenched by a whisper and slave to his pain
Dare he rise above it? All ice melts away
And where will he stand at the end of the day?
OOO
The hourglass prison and futures released
Steel-cloaked chains and wings fast unsheathed
Their usage forgotten. Destruction's chill light
The song of the sword and the core of a knight.
OOO
The bleak, barren wasteland. The lightning-graced sky
The dreamer defiant. The battle's shrill cry
The sound in the silence, if one could but hear -
A soul for the price of the cost of a tear.
