Lying in moss, millenia gone,
wasted mass of vein and bone.
Men drew him forth, with fear and dread,
and caged him as a beast.
Stone throw, foul jest,
pricked for sport, no dark or rest.
Sunlight burns, that skybright glower.
But with each nights fall,
She brings him power.

A quiet girl, the gentlest soul,
sees him not as hell spawned ghoul,
but lost alone, so far from home.
And she knows his time will come.
Skin grow, hair and nails,
more human now, they start to quail,
He bears all pain, smiles at their fear,
his mind flies out acroos the plain.
Calling back what men dread.

Coming steady in the night,
a Hellish horse, and a beast of night.
Last of their kind, they crave his sight.
Dwelled in darkness all these years,
spawning whispered dreadful fears.
From his cage he sees her truth.
The pregnancy belies her youth.
A sin that cursed her in the eyes,
of those that poison with their lies.

The one deed she can do for him,
she frees the monster, this no whim!
Hidden in a place to rest,
her pity passed the test.
So she runs, with his eyes upon her.
Only Her death will save the honour,
of those who can have none.
Far away, with her lover she runs,
hiding, child now close, a chosen one.

But grinning, with the glee of hate,
Her hunters come, sadistic fate.
A hundred foul men, with her kin,
to punish love with every sin.
Stricken no more, breathing the night.
Greeting his beasts with a call to the fight.
And a prayer, the first and last of his life.
Let me ride one day beneath your light.
I will kneel before your cross.....

Day comes, riding forth, as in the days gone by.
When the world feared their coming.
But today, bleeding from palms, and head,
and wounded, the suffering of the sweetest one,
the price of his prayers.
One day of racing hooves and claws,
swords that flash, dragon soars.
Fallen men and horses mark,
His path out from  the dark.
Weapons dripping, claws ripping,
no smile now, tension gripping.

Too late to save, the torture done.
Still warm, but now beyond his reach.
But still inside the smallest beats.
Quick strokes, hard deeds, in his arms,
torn mother still bleeds,
But her dead face smiles, child  saved from harm.
So He'll nurture and teach the little one,
Tell him of the good his Mother had done.
Then, together they will come.
With a host of Dragons to claim his throne.