Hear the banners, blaring,
In a Castle, sun-bathed white.
Wrapped in the golden sunsets
of both East,
Come closer, into this Castle's realm
see crops blazing with activity,
what might be prosperity,
or laughing children
and screams of joy, and laughter.
Talk to a farmer girl, of this Castle,
Listen to her tale:
I was wrought from Issac and Portia,
a Nobleman, and a Common-folk.
Together, they brought me, 16 years ago.
From the dusty deserts, that bloom green plants,
I sit lonely on a bench,
and by chance, I had a glance,
of a poor person, but, not a common-*****.
A man he is, and he stands tall,
with black slick hair,
and muscles all.
I looked at him,
and he looked at me,
or so it seems.
The next day,
in the market streets
face, to face.
Though it were a dream.
And seemed fair around us,
though that was not what it would seem.
We spoke, in the corridor,
to the church,
and we learned of each others lore
and kept close each others worth.
The Next day, by midnight,
as I slept in my bed,
He was there.
He knocked on my window,
and I invited him in,
for my anticipations.
And he spoke to me
"I will return, Christine, dearest,
but I must embark, upon a quest,
to the neighboring town of Cornwallis,
to discuss neighboring policies,
By 3 days shall I return,
and should I not,
then my death will you learn
And so he came,
and so he went,
William his name
who's life not spent
walked gallantly mile after mile
to reclaim his fiance
and raise their child.
upon the walls
their lies what they
might call a mote,
but it has been torn,
and it might be plagued,
explaining the lack of
Knocking on the Gates,
leads to a few strange noises,
one of them, being,
as you hear
as if they were sleeping,
and you look up,
"The moon, of course!"
And so you climb the wall,
with a vine you found in the forests nearby.
And you stumble and mingle
with the vine wrapped
around your ankle.
Alas, your free,
You look up for the first time
within the boundaries of the city,
and minor commotions,
and by mere chance,
the sun arrives
though late, he seems,
and later he rises
the brilliance and the blare like a clock
starts the peasants up as flocks.
Love round the village clean and fair
and animals rolling in parks they share.
Where birds sit in pair-trees.
Where dogs chase cats for fun,
Where bees entertain the children free
Where parents admire the creation they've done.
And as you walk these streets
in wonder, and satisfaction,
You find that street
is layered in sparkles
and clouds of snow-white dust
that enhance the atmosphere
so to speak.
Their, in the middle,
bewitches thine eye,
with all fantasies of this Earth,
and all beauties that have worth.
For in the center, lies a fountain,
which speaks 'Heaven' to your heart,
its marble is smooth as doves,
the presence of the fountain,
creates, or so you believe, the dark
like a ominous breeze,
that is being blown away,
like a monkey-chain of rubber bands,
the features of this fountain,
excite your mind with wonder,
that makes your life feel whole,
though man has at least one worth,
should the world fail
and all prove evil,
then at least, they praise this devil.
The shape is but a breath-taker from
what could qualify, as a statue
for to lie in God's Plaza, or something
similar. The water spraying from the Queen,
Gaia, with a lively green vine,
that is pure and uncut emerald
that wraps around her hair,
which is so defined,
that you could give Gaia a new definition,
And from Gaia's hands, holding a vial,
comes out water, seeming longer,
and more endless then the nile.
And should you lean upon this,
architecture, of majesty,
of Heaven, the Stars,
and all the cold void within this reflection,
that miraculously could ever dare
to try that deception, in say, 4 feet length,
that mimics the unending of space,
time and infinity.
you turning your head,
you see creatures,
though creatures they be,
they, if the fountain represented God,
then these creatures represent his Archangels.
As Swans float gently,
upon the water's tip,
and even Salmon, and other fishes below
are gray, silver, or diamond clear.
And the water their, remains,
despite the audiences
of romantic teens,
adorable, and innocent children, laughing and playing in this pool,
and adults sitting by it, enjoying their mate's company.
Inscribed in Gaia's vial, reads
"The Fountain of Youth".
But these fond memories no longer supply me,
with the passion and love of this Earth,
I once fondly knew,
for all, even the fountain is pillaged,
and two lovers that loved each other were hewed.
But pride, forgotten,
and beauty marred,