as the brazen thief of light
leads his army of ten thousand stout spears  
under the shelter of storms sweeping force
with as his dark eye fixed on the jewels of the kingdom
with his dark eye fixed on the crown of creation
his leathery skin glistens with the sweat of his labour
as he quietly moves his army forward

the soft light of fading sun
resolutely clings to to this small room
in denial of days end
in spite of the mighty arms of darkness approach
hear its struggle as the wistful dreamers of late day tries
to rouse themselves to battle this darkness approaching
hear daylights noisome futile pact to remain
forever

the striving of darkness bursts in the door
and begins to fight its way across the room
a faceless army of shadow
knives threaded to the poison of light
spears aflame with the heat of battle
and before this irresistible tide
sunlight retreats with weeping and resolutions to return
fill the void with a vast force unkempt
with a mighty host blade tried and true
liberate the world from
darknesses cold hand

darkness reigns in the room for
seeming untold hours made up of years

look to the east
and see the rising might of sunlight
feel the furnace hot vengeance as it now strives forth
ten thousand swords emblazoned with the suns anger
marching out of the east like a tide
to reclaim what was so wrongfully taken

the brazen thief of light too late catches wind of his doom
and with frightened eye calls upon
the rushing tide of his army to withdraw from this doom
but they are locked in conflict
and torn asunder
he flees with accursed fear upon his face
and limbs flogging the hard road
back to the darkness from whence he came
to raise another dark army
that will fill the horizon with the spears of spite
reclaim what was so wrongfully taken