Ever
For all the Butlers, the Cerberii, the Sams. Wish I had one.
Not all bow before those chosen rules,
Not all believe in God,
Yet rebellion breeds those many fools,
Thus plans will have flaws…
It comes through woven lies,
Free of its cage,
Cruel memory is its cry,
Malignant in rage.
There is nothing between,
Death and forsaken,
For the unleasher has not seen,
How he was mistaken.
Yet comes light from despair,
Strong and still tall,
He walks without care,
And fights it as he falls.
Too many times has he done this,
His heart now broken,
Although, bitter be his wish,
Artemis must never be forsaken.
He shall not be remembered,
Ever shall they say adieu.
But as long as there's desire's ember,
There'll be a man in the shadows.
Excuse the odd formatting. The Pit is horrendous.
Too abstract, but oh well. Easier then writing lo-ong eight-page Fëanor ballads that I still have to finish. sigh
That was s'pposed to be 'bout Butler and Artemis. Probably didn't come through.
Namárië,
Nallasariel the Weeper