A four-letter word helps define the rest of your life.
Flying carefree, through my life, until an arrowed tether became the knife.
It didn't make any sense, I screamed that it was unfair.
The world needed a savior, and Fate really didn't even care.
So everyone went on, I could feel them whisper.
Torrents of thoughts and words into a twister.
Wondering about tomorrow, suddenly became so tense.
The weight of the world was a literal term, and it was Impossibly dense.
I went out flying, I can't remember why, I didn't want to have the others see me start to cry.
I pushed them away, they didn't understand, I was The Avatar? I don't even know if they can!
So I flew into the storm, matching the one inside me. Releasing my grip on common sense, letting Fury guide me.
I was being thrown into a twisted future, every turn seeming to bear the title of Death.
I didn't die, though, instead, I fell, sealing off the remnants of my final breath.
One-hundred years of Coma, I was released, a Twelve-Year old kid.
I bet that neither her nor her brother had even a clue of what they did.
I learned that one-hundred years had passed, and with it, my past disappeared.
Losing my friends that I'd run away from, seemed to be the equivalent to all fears.
Her kind eyes and caring manner seemed to be the salve to my wounds.
Learning of things, far-off places, traveling by the light of the moon.
I mastered the first Element, after gaining their trust, fighting off emotions decribed mainly as lust.
I was a kid, at heart, I was still a Fool, faced with an impossible task, destined to be overruled.
But we went on, together, he and her, them and I. We went on together, making tracks in the sky.
Meeting new foes of one so long existed, the face of fear was a teenagers, his mind as twisted.
But we struggled onwards, against Impossible odds, finding anew what people had forgotten.
One-hundred years, dead but not gone.
It wasn't my Fate that made me do this, it wasn't destiny, it wasn't bliss.
It was Love, at first, it seemed so dumb, compared to her, I am nothing but a crumb.
I asked another, keeping details discreet. He said "Maximum Aloofness" head-and-mind made of meat.
Needless to say, his advice didn't work. When I gave it a try, I felt like a Jerk.
But fortune-tellers can't be trusted, at all. Seeing the present with accuracy, besides that, none at all.
So we went on, forwards, into the folds of time. Visiting old people from a past life, and mind.
Learning of the Elements, gathering new friends, losing our allies, but we still found in the end.
The party of three became one of four, and as time grew on, it added three more.
The face of fear from my childhood days, before I hit realization that this was the way.
Joined alongside us, to tear down this Union, the one built of terror, ultimate retribution.
Standing here, now, at the crossroads to Fate, things still left unsaid, and undone, though not too late.
We stand together, stubborn and tall, we stand together, all us Fools, one and all.
What love means is not what you think.
Love is a fountain from which The Heart loves to drink.
Whatever they told me, it wasn't all a lie.
Love isn't perfection, not exterioriorially sublime.
What it is, is what it is.
There's nothing more to say, Love is seeing flaws.
But still Loving, anyway.
So here I am, at the end of my past.
Treasuring every moment before it all comes to clash.
Nation vs. Nation, this inevitible war.
Bloodshed is bounty, here, Golden will be gore.
Terror will reign and the Heavens will tremble.
Death will steal away throughout the rooms of our temples.
Into our heats, exiting through our minds. Giving meaning to our struggle.
Giving fruits to our finds. The War is coming, the Black Wave of Death.
Three words, more meaning than in a lifetime of breath.
