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.
