THE HERO'S GUIDE TO ROLE ACCEPTANCE (THE SHADOW TEMPLE)

by kublakhan27

The third in a series of poems inspired by temples in The Legend Of Zelda: Ocarina Of Time video game. I've been trying to inject some mystery and intrigue into these pieces for those who aren't familiar with the game...hopefully I'm doing that.

THE HERO'S GUIDE TO ROLE ACCEPTANCE (THE SHADOW TEMPLE)

It was a bare-boned mandate
of destiny
until adventure wrapped a self-fulfilling
prophecy around it like
a work uniform

Threads of bygone emerald
bestowed upon me became my skin
and dyed my anatomy with the belief
I could eradicate any malcontent harbouring
their own destinies softened by
no motivational discernment of adventure
to pad their purpose

No gaudiness of armour or control of visibility
thwarted my momentous garnishing of all
before me to expendable robots
as I rode the senses of my mythic
green bloodline
slashing hell-bound avenues
into dead-end destinies with what
the gods called The Blade Of Evil's Bane
where the only noble destiny resides

I took on the adventure's goal of not dying
over the consideration of my unsuccessful ancestors
wondering if any scaled the dynamics of
this fateful criteria as I have

Belief flowered into knowledge of my
inability to perish at the hands of villains I could see

Now my sight simmers in my pocket
with my conscience in what must be a Purgatorial
extension of the graveyard outside
like an after-hours spa for its stubborn residents

Now I claw my entry back with new considerations
in the realization
that I'm called upon to see my way through
this chasm-cracked hall of sight
denied to mortal eyes

Has my belief in my senses soured
to a gnarled Narcissism?
Did my failed ancestors fall prey
to this state of mind as well?

Sight and conscience acquiesce to instincts here
where senses are deflected back at living eyes
like blindness and extremities like paralysis

I take a breath (and don the lens wrested from
an apparition's crypt once I killed the purpose
that went on puppetizing his destiny)
clinging to the notion of adventure as my best bet
trying to abort this embryonic notion of naivate
newly spawned from no anticipation of a mission
so associated with what could be an unearthly
brigade of unseen undead ancestor-killers

Never have I felt so mortal since
I sheathed this epochal sword for the first time
in my anachronistically-recycled green accouterments

(The third in a series of poems inspired by temples in The Legend Of Zelda: Ocarina Of Time video game. I've been trying to inject some mystery and intrigue into these pieces for those who aren't familiar with the game...hopefully I'm doing that)

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