Disclaimer – FFVIII and all assorted character do not belong to me. Poem does, however.

Nemean

Storm-blue scarce blackened, and midnight's blank stare

Blood-born and hungry. The hunter's bleak glare

To make of a meaning what you would believe –

The lion in mourning. For what does he grieve?

OOO

Frozen in form by the darktime's chill rain

Wrenched by a whisper and slave to his pain

Dare he rise above it? All ice melts away

And where will he stand at the end of the day?

OOO

The hourglass prison and futures released

Steel-cloaked chains and wings fast unsheathed

Their usage forgotten. Destruction's chill light

The song of the sword and the core of a knight.

OOO

The bleak, barren wasteland. The lightning-graced sky

The dreamer defiant. The battle's shrill cry

The sound in the silence, if one could but hear -

A soul for the price of the cost of a tear.