A sweet saga sung,
A cigarette crackles as it ignites,
A tale tragic for my lungs,
But chemicals rush through the brain setting it alight.

Sweet accents to the tune as the tale unfolds,
As our hero's story unfolds,
A bittersweet departure,
Kept apart,
Held at bay by ideology and circumstance.

But a darkness approaches,
A dark fate comes closer,
To destroy them all,
And she orders her opposite to take her bow,
Standing shoulder to shoulder to bear the brunt of the storm.

The dark haze creep in the Valley,
Eyes peeled to the east for their only chance to survive to hold out,
Already morning the orchards that would soon be lost.

The rot begins to spread,
Grotesquely twisting the trees as they shrivel and waste away,
The scion of the ****** angered at the pyrrhic victory.

The long night bringing a great battle,
The feral calls are cried,
They meet in a great clash of steel and magic,
In a secret war away from private eyes,
How can just one battle last so long?

Armor is rent asunder as weapons are damaged and woundss attained,
The Scion steps forward with a sword set ablaze,
And the woman lies bloodied off to the side,
The warrior lays set with her bow pulled and arrow drawned back,
Her aiding him even after she was taken off the board.

The Scion draws closer still,
His face finally shown to him,
As the symbols of the before set aglow along the bow,
The arrow is loosed,
Sending it along it's trajectory as the sun finally climbs from the east, washing everything in light.

The Wanderer meanders west,
Atop his horse,
Topping the dusty mountain crest,
Pulling his steed to a gentle stop,
To give him the moments necessary to process what he sees.

A great forest aflame,
A creature most glorious and terrifying,
Charging up mountains and sending up great pillars of flame.

Tidal waves of orange and red dash themselves upon these ridges,
Sending a mist of super-heated embers down the other side,
Beginning the process anew.

Great billowing towers of black smoke that roils and is in a constant state of flux,
Losing form as it ascends miles high.
Such beautiful and glorious destruction that could ever be seen,
An apex predator that could not be tamed.

The Wander turns his horse around and meanders back,
Changed from this experience,
The likes of which would never be seen again.

Soaring high above the tops of the clouds,
Towards a destination few dates to go,
A return if sorts to a life that would be both old and new.

The moon reflects across the ice crystals below,
Giving it an etherial glow,
Their tops shorn flat by the wind,
Giving the appearance of a calm lake in the summer,
Like glass from another realm.

A decision was made,
A war still raging inside the heart,
As new obstacles are thrown up.

Willingly leaving family behind to throw one's self into danger,
To put service before self once again.

That great apex has been reached,
And one can feel the descent,
To skip upon that lake top,
Gradually sinking through like the proverbial stone,
To arrive at the next leg of the trip.

Riding alone along that famous desert road,
Heading west for a new page,
To reap what could be sowed,
A opportunity rare in this day and age.

Eyes growing weary,
And like a mirage it does appear,
A place to make the head unbleary,
Where one can cast aside one's doubts and fears.

So alone in the journey it makes knees nearly buckle,
A sirens call is heeded,
Tempting with sultry eyes and unspoken promises.

In a haze stumbling forward,
Not aware of the dangers present,
That the boat was being lead shoreward,
To be dashed upon a jagged outcropping's crescent.

It is here one gets ******,
Like a fish when it realized it's been hooked,
That the risks are everywhere,
Like stumbling into a minefield,
Not recognizing the risks until halfway across.

It's enough to bring the brakes to a screeching halt,
The sudden sound warbling through the empty desert air,
Kicking up clouds of sandand salt,
Seeing to one's horror that there is nothing really there.

It's enough to ***** off even the most steady,
To be tricked by the wraiths of the land,
One had to speed across these parts ever at the ready,
Otherwise they invite disaster and ruin,
As they oft walk hand-in-hand.

So tear through these deadlands,
Never look back,
And don't need the sirens call,
None of it is real.

So tear through these deadlands,
Never try to get to the shack,
It doesn't contain what you think you lack,
Just the fires and poisons of your enemies,
Those enemies of your past.

TapaTapa-Tapatapa-Tapatapa
The beat lulling one into trance,
Plant hypnotizing all who hear,
Building steam,
Sailing across the sky as stars come out,
Glimmer behind like them like some wake.

How far does one travel in a year,
So many steps,
So many blinks,
So many breaths.

Go!

The desire hitting like a blow to the solar plexus,
Driving breath from the lungs,
Making that next breath literally taste sweet.

It makes you look off to the far-reaching off horizon,
At those hard to reach goals seems so far away in the desert like a mirage,
But teeth are bared in a grin at the challenges.

Like floating now,
But gently being glided down,
Laid finally to rest upon mattress and sheet,
A pillow soft and cool.

Eyelids growing heavy,
Not long to go,
A balance has finally been achieved,
At long last balanced upon the fulcrum.

The body stronger,
The mind sharper,
The eyes clearer.

It is here the Insomniac finally drifts off to sleep.
Taken up once again to sleep amongst the millions of stars.

Marching forward,
The Old Gunney marched to the golden throne,
Halting and coming to the position of attention,
Ready for his final Inspection.

He tried to live as a good man,
Dispute some burrs in the corners,
He was kind to his family,
Full of humility and humor.

Without a doubt his inspection would be up to *****

Being pulled into crossroads,
Like chains wrapped around arms,
Pulling in opposite directions.

Looking to their left one can see a return to the past,
A past that one would miss and love so,
They can see themselves strong and fast,
But dancing on a knife edge,
In which the slightest tumble would bring misery and woe.

But with such dangers come great rewards,
And one of these gives quite possibly the greatest gift of all,
The opportunity to live to the absolute extreme,
Something that is hard to come by these days.

Looking to the right one would see an exploration of the new,
Something that's stirs in them,
Like how it was to discover that love for a spouse all over again,
One could see the transformation into something different and better,
But this would require wrestling with disaster,
Risking everything going up in flames.

But facing off against this threat would guarantee the future,
A chance a peace of sorts,
The feeling of completion they didn't know they even yearned for.

The strain begins to grow,
A decision needs to be made,
What is one to do?
Either way opens them up the possibility of real and absolute destruction,
But giving at the same time unprecedented gifts that some never even get the chance to see.

Either way it goes,
They shall forever be freed.