The Windows Of Your Eyes
I
The Little One
The little one
His eyes sparkling amethysts
The little one
Where all hope of innocence rests
How strange that many should desire
The holder of the Pharaoh's tomb
Those shimmering pools of amethyst fire
Hold destiny's secrets within their womb
The little one
With courage fast
The little one
With strength long last
This vessel with his stature fair
Standing tall amidst the debris
The winds of change tease through his hair
And his eyes set captive courage free
I am the little one, some say. I am the runt. The tagalong. The one they pick last in ball games, fights, and life. I am the puny one. I am the little nothing.
I am the little one, they say. I am the small ball of fire, to light the heroes' way. I am the last spark that keeps burning, when all hope is thought to be gone. I am the remnant of life itself.
I am the little one, he says. His little light, the other half to his mysterious darkness. I am his hope, his resurrector, his love. I am the one he comes home to.
My height is a curse, yet a blessing. I am teased and picked upon, but when I duel, I am thrice the height of my enemies. My friends say my heart is big and that is all that matters. Sometimes, when I am being held against a wall and pummeled to a pulp, I wish I could believe them.
I wish… but wishes do not come true. All but one, that is. I wished for help, someone to keep me safe, someone to teach me, guide me, love me. The Pharaoh is the answer to that wish. He came in the time of my most dire need.
I am the little one, the one they look to. They have seen my inner strength and they know I can save them. I am the one whom nobody notices, and yet everybody praises when I save their lives.
I am his little archnemisis. I am the thorn in his side, the only duelist ever to have beaten him. He has never beaten me; that time at sunrise, he won by forcing my hand. Too much was at stake. My dark spirirt would never have let him just walk away. I am his obsession, his passion, his hatred flaming deep within his crumbling heart. I am his drive, his motivation. He scares me. They all do, at times.
My heart may be big and my ego bigger, but at times I feel like a dust mote. Smaller than anything anyone ever notices. They tell me I mustn't feel that way; they always notice me. But sometimes, I feel so small. I feel like no one cares. Even my Pharaoh turns away at times. He wraps himself in the shroud of his destiny and does not answer to my tiny cries.
Even my pleas are minute. Too small to hear.
My despondancy will pass, I know. Too many love me too close and too deeply to let me go. I will not slip from their grasp. I will not let myself succumb to the depression, to the will to just let go.
I am their little one. I am the one they scorn, the one they love, the one they turn to. I am the invisible one they see in their dreams. I am the spark that ignites the flame. I am life itself.
The little one, with dreams of passion
dreams of pain and dreams of woe
The little one, whose every action
echoes in those who love him so
Where will life lead this young hero?
-only time and fate will tell
Leave him to sit with nothing to fear now
on his destiny to dwell
