Reflections of the Beam

He walks,

the man in black.

Onward, never ceasing

chasing, ever hunting

Races he,

the man of blood.

One follows;

the other leads.

Vengeance, honor,

the great quest of old.

Childe Roland to

the Dark Tower, come.

Hear ye, gunslinger,

heed the calls of thy

father.

Shoot with hand, mind,

your very heart.

Shoot for the skies, the

stars themselves in the dark

Walk on, gunslinger.

Take up the path

your fathers walked

before you.

Take up the mantle of

faded glory and ruin.

Take up the light of the

Beam to the end,

bitter though it be.