The morning mist lies low,
The dew perfumes the grass,
And on it run amok the lads,
Winged feet and sturdy hearts
That spring them up at that dawn
To partake and to indulge in ,
boots, grass and Beauty.
They whisper forward as if one,
Weaving their web of magic,
And should indeed thier lines break,
The rearguard stands tall.
The game though, is won in the middle
Where battle is made upon the playing field,
A conflict of strength and mind and
Of boots, grass and Beauty.
They have won and they have lost,
Yet in a well played game , lie
Neither victory or defeat
For those are realms of honour,
Of pride and joy
Of boots, grass and Beauty.

The darkness overcame me,
Those shattered spectacles of fire were all around
As the curtains snapped to over the sun, you took what was mine.
The flames enveloped me, and yet I fought them.
For when I broke cover, the sun was shining,
Clear as it did in days of yore .
Your light had built me, and in that it failed
I fled into the darkness, for my fate led to death,
And to victory over your ambitions.
To fertility over desolation
To prosperity over the darkness that,
Unfolded upon us, like oil on canvas.
And yet I am afraid.
The living have traded for the dead.
The fire dwells over all that resist.
The light of the shadow is fading
Where art thou, o Evenstar, and why do you flee , before our end,
And though you may flee to bright lit shores
Where the maladies of death come to nought
It is we who watch thy girdle
The blood upon our swords and the splinters of our shields,
They hold back what thou fear
The halls of our fathers await.
We are destined to them
And as gentlemen though we fall to
This darkness that you hold
We shall not accept your order,.
And live and die as gentlemen.
For the hour is long gone for negotiation
The vultures gather for their treats
The unhallowed for their rank,
And yet I shall face thee to the death.
The leaving dare not come near us,
The dead dare not pass by
For as the flames of the elder days are stoked
We shall both meet our doom.
The dead watch our front
The living , betray us
But we of the mighty land shall stand
And fall for those that we hold
That mistress is arriving.
Gentlemen, I give you today's victory,
And tonight's mourning.

It was amid the conflagration,
That I saw you, sheltered by awe,
And upon that field, where I struggling stood,
Your eyes bore upon me.
The ground was rent with the devil's snare,
The air befuddled by his mystique,
Yet your lure brought me strength.
I crawled through the bloodstained mists,
Over the entrails of a shattered humanity,
And you stood smiling at the door.
I had upon me nought but the sweltering radiance,
For the shadow, he took refuge beyond you
Your fire was my support, your glory was my shield.
I was not lost. For within you lay deliverance.
Labour it was that pushed me forth,
As the abyss of nothing was upon me
The bogs of dereliction lay under my feet. I fell.
The perfumed grass that was under yours beckoned,
I progressed.
And though I battered my demons to reach your sanctuary, you slithered away
There was sorrow behind me,
And ahead, enticing me you stood.
But I cannot reach you.
My strength has been sapped by this journey
My vitals have been beaten into submission
I shall fall here .
Perhaps it is your quest alone that is transcendental
It may be that you are but a mirage .
Even so, as I give away to that eternal night,
Your light flickers in my pupils.
I am lost in sight of your being.
You are the death of me.

It is in the realms of being that she ,
flutters, as if inevitable
It is she that traverses the mires of misery,
And infuses the spirits of darkness
Hope, that mistress of ill fortune,
Who deals in honey tongues and flowery words
She twists speech and engages minds
Ensnaring all in her deceit.
She is a lie.
In her absence dwells the warmth of self.
Courage comes when she flees,
For there is no fight that is fought,
Better in her absence.
No impossibility achieved in her presence.
The paths of victory, lead through
The Death of Hope.
The gusts of change leave her shattered in their wake
For when she is vanquished, defeat itself is sweet.
And when her fickle whims are laid to rest
When the constructs of her malignancy laid bare
Comes the sweet dawn of truth.
Her end leads to greater roads.
Those not of victory,but of glory
Of valour that cannot be written
In  scripts of her choosing.
The last bugle shall play
The sounds of that charge shall take up our times
The fires shall burn for their sake alone.
And when we come upon that new dawn,
Hallowed in its darkness,
We shall have arrived,
At The Death of Hope.

If I die before you wake,
Know that, when darkness fell,
I was standing.
As fire rained from the sky,
I endured it and did dwell
Where the shadow was darkest.
If I die before you wake,
Think of me in that cozy dawn
As the sun lights up your face,
For as you lay, so did I
In the blood of those that
I too did love, and could not save,
As the light faded, from their eyes
If I die before you wake,
Think of those glory days
Of mirth and wine under the sun,
Of laughter and spirit unending,
Drunken nights, and infinite stars
That dwindled into those countless hours
When I die before you wake,
Remember me for what I was,
And mourn not but celebrate
That I fell in lofty company
And have achieved peace that only,
The fallen can.
You my beloved, must soldier on,
Living, for so many who could not
A life without sorrow, a life complete.
Regret nothing, and do not forsake
Yourself, for that which cannot be.
Promise me this, and dream away
For I shall be dead, before you wake.

The illumination rounds light up the sky,
My love, and it's time for us to embark
Where the heavens are our cover
The darkness is our saviour, and
Only victory our release.
For you know how it is m' dear
When the lead starts to rain
The field rages hot with fire
And in the heat of it, you alone
Stand besides me, unflinching
Unquenchable spitfire that you are
The world dances to the Lady's whims
The night and snow close around us.
But in you alone, there is a comfort.
To face death and come what may,
For when the sun shines again.
Our hour shall have come.
We march together for glory awaits us
But so does death. And he waits. He watches.
He sends down fire, and splinter and shot and shell
And you never fail to reply .
He shudders the earth and melts rock,
And yet your aim is true.
Victory is enshrined in your musical chatter
For even though I lie, with you in my blood smeared,
You live to fight another day.
My victory is your resilience.
My courage is your accuracy.
My sacrifice is your continuum.
Your mortals have fallen many times afore you.
And yet you soldier on. Unheralded unlike him, with bronze on his chest.
You deal in lead.
And in victory .
At the end of all things, you alone stay with me.

In the bosoms of all that is
There is darkness
For all things come from it
And all things end therein
There is peace in the darkness
It is untouched by the entropies of the world
Chaos it knows not, warmth is its being
In its kindly embrace, there is no conflict
There is truth in the darkness
It was before aught else came to be
When even the deeps of time,
lay without foundation,
The darkness reigned supreme
There is wisdom in the darkness
Forever it has sought to teach
That the senses unsullied by light
are pristine, profound and everlasting
There is beauty in the darkness
Such that needs no eyes to see
A realm of peace and harmony
in balance with all that should be
There is life in the darkness
It has fostered all that there is
For it lived before even emptiness came to be
All has passed through its gaze
There is eternity in the darkness
Enduring through the ravaging light it has,
transcended the realms of being
The darkness shall exist
Unconquered, unbroken
and forever awaiting those that seek
the joy ; that dwells only in,
the hallowed immobility
within the halls of darkness

The deeps of darkness have been raised
As if  their being was kindled.
The warm night of peace is at an end.
The devil is he that rages unchecked this night, and there are none to withstand him.
The shield wall breaks, the cavalry routed, and the meanest defence stands alone.
What shall become of these men?
Death surely, for the miracles of poetry give lie to no truth. The curses of old are set in concrete.
Death has gained his presence here. He smells victory. For the living in their mundanity see only their existence.
This existence that means nothing in the tomes of the greater good.
There is no life, only sorrow.
There is no victory, only decimation.
Only the naive think thus.
Victory is not that of arms and steel.
Nor of land or gold or tales of which bards sing
Victory is in the fight that was fought.
For they that wage the good war, and fight the good fight, all is victory.
Defeat is beyond question. Life is not of consequence.
The act alone reigns supreme.
This isn't joy. This isn't glory.
For victory chooses  not the last man to stand, but the last to fall in defiance. Victory belongs to the departed. The victorious dead.
And such as it is. It shall end now.
And it's end alone worthy of song .
For all who bear witness to it.
We die, we do not flee.

The end is near.
The door opens
And with it a breath of air
But it is no benign gust
But the warm murky stench of his presence
He is waiting
The clouds enter, and with them bring
The precipitation of the end
Night, that beautiful nurse
Has fallen into the abyss
Overshadowed by blinding destruction
Of that bright inevitable light
Which breeds evil.
Oh what can stand before,
when even the staunchest resistance fails
The unbroken redoubt is surrounded
Beaten back but not broken yet
The end will come
And with it the glittering reminiscence
Of all that was in the peaceful winter
Summer scorches all.
We are overrun
But in these pockets that are still held we remain
Till when must we endure this unknown foe
Where are the songs of old and those who sang them
Where are the mighty, and the feats of arms renowned
The joys of battle and the songs of slaying
Or were they just a dream, that blew into the Blue Mountains
Strong, but ineffective, against those giants of rock
We are dwindling.
Every man watches another's back
But to what avail, when we exist only in demarcation
A mere clean spot on the sullied canvas of the world
As we knew it. It too shall fall.
There is no glory to be found here.
For even though we hold, we give way
A yard at a time. The dirge goes up a note
We strive to make a worthy end.
Yet to whom shall it be of worth?
There are none left to sing songs of our courage
No one to recite lays of this defiance.
Not even the foolhardy dare to  hope.
For there is no one to hope for.
We know of our end. We have made peace with this war.
It shall consume us.
We shall all fall, and yet, none will be left behind.

The game of death knows no bounds.
He is on our tail.

The flotsam of his being approaches.
Light slaughters the darkness.

The warm breeze is but the reek of his presence.
He is watching.

Killing is inevitable.
A whirlwind of shadow is upon us.

The fallen have passed into eternity
Those waiting, project their shadow.

Life is the realm of fruitless combat.
The dead have seen peace.

Victory is a degenerate passion.
Survival is glory.

Here, at the end of all things,
beyond, the grasp of hope
we have reached, and here it shall end
though all now is lost, I'm glad
that you lie with me, and lend
courage, at the fall of evil, but of us also
A fool's hope was what brought us here
over desolation and the edge of fear
where the realms are of the dead
the stars are strange and the clouds black
yet a new sun rises in times ahead
as we lie here, at the end of all things
A fallen friend, a broken dream
a mighty wood, a gurgling stream
sunder us from that far off home
a memory of another life, that was lost somewhere,
on the road that led ever onwards, but did not fail
as it passed through war and mighty horde
a promise grew, but no oath was laid
many mighty deeds, were trivial made
for what was to be won, was beyond all
fear, concealed in some remote corner
of a soul festering with gloom
in the search for the steps of doom
finding which,we now broken lie
at the end of all things
Over the sea the gulls cry
making the heart restless, for it cannot hope
to find healing,in the land of its torment and
over the sea the gulls fly, ever westward
therein alone lies deliverance, the grey shores are calling
where the dawn is silver, they are ever singing
of the end of evil, and in welcome
to those of us, staring at the door
the Undying Lands lie before, unseen by the mortal eye
revered in all the Elder lore
There the eagles bid us to go, into the uttermost west
Where though we may be whole again, we cannot forget,
we who were there, but were not slain
at the end of all things

The winds of the west blow
from hallowed undying lands
to lands east,over the oceans flow
into mortal realms where darkness lies
They stem from His thoughts,who dwells on his lofted throne
and transcends the realms of every age
giving life to that gentle breeze,
that has the power to assuage,ills
begotten when the girdle was built
sundering one and one from the other
even so the west wind fills,the chasm so deep
that was bourn out of the wrath,that once was
but now gently sleeps,in the west
from where the wind blows.
They breathe life into shrivelling palms
hope into tired arms,and strength when all else fails
For the winds alone remain,in union with the sea,of those
who of yore roamed in fellowship where man was found
in the deeps of the elder days,before the ships were set to sail
by the same wind,that still returns,for it has neither forgotten
not forsaken those who it left,on shores hidden from light
that does not burn,yet smoulders still in the hearts
of those who looked upon it,when the world was young.
So the west winds blow,but also return to lands where
they were birthed,carrying tidings of all things
that come to be,dark or fair,to the lords
who set it to wandering go,beyond,where no duty calls
and so does it also bring,the weary fallen,
to return home and grandly dine, in the halls
where their fathers are,in the west
from where the winds blow.

I flew on the back of a night so deep
Striving for the peace sought in my sleep

A girdle of flame enveloped my flight
Branding souls, with irons hot in my sleep

Alone and outnumbered,the foe unseen
He was within, with evil fraught in my sleep

Blistering in a furnace,the door mocking stood
Torturing a mind that the devil fought in my sleep

The downward spiral was unending, bottomless
Weightlessly crushing hope to nought in my sleep

There is no way out, only one through
The Victory of death, so dearly bought in my sleep

I fly eternally, without wings.
I have scoured this massive azure expanse ,for a century. I have fallen, I have broken, I have recovered ,and I still fly.
I gather tell from the winds, my wisdom, from the shadows, my refuge behind the sun.
I have spun, and I have been dizzy, I have dived and been exhilarated.
I sleep upon the clouds, yet I watch forever.
Storms do not trouble me ,rain does not quench me.I stay aloft and roam unhampered.
I see everything

Fathoms deep, are these mines of grey
impregnable, by even the brightest ray
yet light here is in plentiful found
To its insides alone, forever bound

Darkest evils, here lie awake
In every hall, pit and bottomless lake
Writhing ever to upwards surge
Singing, forever,their own dirge

Battles here ever are waged
Ambush,attack and clouts staged
For no blackness may reside alone
From cracks and crevices, are many lights shown


And the makes of the mines are just so
Always deeper,than their depths may go
for every produce that is fine or fair
Can be, twisted to cause despair.


Glittering gold, of value great
And coal, for which lies fiery fate
Fabulous, shinning, precious stones
Lie embedded, in old rotting bones

Many beings do venture here
With dreams hopes and many a fear
Each follows where the great mine leads
ever wider, are sown these seeds

And from these seeds new beings form
to join the massive egressing storm
That leaves forever those places dark
Whether to falter, our make its mark

Good,evil and all between
Are in this hallowed space seen
Neither fine nor all fey
But in truth filled with grey

The flames of Avalone run deep
in the wells of our hearts,
Yet Avalone is lost to man
black are its sundered parts
of old what grew,so fair
shining,yonder to the west
wherefore has it passed,and why,
does not the light,glimmering,silver gold,
appear to the mortal eye
The two trees that stood,seemingly eternal
are now watered but by shadow
And light,oh cruel light it is now
that burns and does not gently flow
like it did,among the towers of Avalone
The light has passed into flame
blue and white,searing above all else
souls who sought once its blessing
a treacherous guide,
ever leading to the vaults of the deep
where dark and evil light,
remain ever stoking their devilry
spewing it out,into the halls of the night
where yet there is to be found
some of the beauty that was afore
for the stars,they came from Arda
and to her they are bound
They rest among shadow,but glitter
like they did,above the skies of Avalone
Beauty, what of the fallen beauty?
unfathomable among losses, unnumbered are the tears
for even the tongues,of those who did dwell,
there in its glory,have mingled, and remain,
over the  see,where the trees fell
and are heard not among men,to whom but
a whisper came,and darkness,and memory
passed on by age,of the vanquished,of the slain
and of those forgotten among the flames of Avalone

Green grass,under white polished stone
that tells a tale of its own
of far off lands,and other fields
of tears gathered,on broken shields

Each silent,lonely spot
tells,of spirit,that once grew hot
of strong wills,and skilled hands
of adventures,upon those far off lands

Whispers of unheard deeds
of fast moves,and lightening steeds
of spirits soaring,miles high
of days of glory,passing by

So many stones,side be side
tell of those,who just so did ride
in their,brave,proud bands
in those,green,far off lands

On many stones,can be found
the inevitable marks,of sorrowful sound
message stones,and wrinkled flowers
that bloom only,under twinkling stars

Mark of birth ,or mark of choice
to each stone,lends its voice
for the one,in who's place it stands
for the one who wandered,to those far off lands

And though they moulder,and slowly fade
the stones shall always lend their aid
to those who venture,heralding change
to lands where the stars are strange

Under this stone and under grass
are those who have come to pass
immobilized in Time's sands
for their deeds,in those far off lands