Throes of Those in Might

by hollowed.akatsuki

Power is a fickle possession. Many people seek it, less are able to locate it, fewer can control it, and no one can handle its greatest burden- the throes of those in might.

Throes of Those in Might

Part I

Limbs without bones

Stretch from a burnt land without homes

Snow and ash intertwine

And two fabled wyrms met, for the first time

One was all legend made him out to be

The other, doomed to be a refrain in the former's melody

Each, a victim to pride-

When they met across the tide

The false wyrm fell

Wanting so much of even a bell

With which to tell of his fate

For pride it was his wished to sate

Despair, in fright of thine pride! Throes of those in might, those same might confide!

Part II

Ah, but the "true" wyrm cared naught for this

Yea, he cared little for what others found amiss

His thirst was deep- aye, for it was one of knowledge

And who better for this thirst to be acknowledged

Than by the Prince of the Unknown,

The primordial keeper of the esoteric tomes?

Knowledge is power

For with it, one might one might ascend

O'er the Adamantine Tower

So while some might say that power corrupts,

The True Wyrm vehemently erupts

That such a price shall have to pend

Despair, in fright of thine pride! Throes of those once in might, those same might confide!

Part III

In a realm faraway, this Wyrm hides

Above an ocean of ebon tides,

He makes his roost;

Atop a sea of eruditions

Oh, how his form hath reduced!

Eyes once bright

Are stricken black of the blinding light

Of the beautiful green haze

This lord of his has razed

Ask of his condition?

"Nay, I've much still to learn

Before the legend is due to return

And do with me as I did the last,

And thus cause the present to become past!"

On this, he does not elaborate-

But only gasp at figures found in shadows

That he suspects plot and collaborate

Yet all that exist there, in the shadows

Are those of shattered echoes-

Caveats to those who seek strength

To add to their mortality length

Despair, Pride, in recoil of thine fear! Throes of those who sought to foil their peers!

Part IV

Today, the Wyrm sits forlorn

His mail rusted, his clothing torn

Eyes no longer black, but simply gone

Just like the lord's last pawn

Now, the shadows hold no threats

Thus, his search was for naught, as he regrets

Power he sought, yet t'was power that found him

Aye, and sapped the Wyrm of all its former vim

Words flow forth like water from a broken dam

The irony now apparent;

The façade now transparent

"Then may he be rewarded for his service as I am."

Despair, in fright of thine pride! Throes of those in might, those same might confide!

And there you have it. My second poem, and one much grimmer, to boot! As always, be sure to check out Kalathon the Comical's forum "The Adventure Has Only Begun." There, you will be able to interact with members far more skilled than I. And we can share a strawberry tart! Ta ta!