Black and red draped over ramparts.
Built by men in squalor.
Winked at us as we left.
It all behind.

Our parents lived outside these walls.
In a village far from here.
Could we return we might find.
That which we'd lost.

Friendship and fun.
Play that didn't come undone.
Whenever someone uninvolved.
Got themselves involved.

East of castle Sanguinair.
Blackened by the tide.
His men washed clean by victory.
Entertained by wine.

Came by the boatful.
Prideful, brash and boastful.
Little mind they gave ahead.
Spearheads laughed and bows did cry.
As helms marched ahead attached to mail and grime.
Many battles tempered fear with wisdom.
The knowledge that they knew.
Aided spear and guided shaft.
Passing through and through.

Once long ago it was but black and nothing else.
Now a splash of wine.
Had colored castle Sanguinair.
A color most divine.

In the moment, inside her entitlement,
Andulan yawned mildly, keeping her wits about her,
Those draining her below stopped for a time.
Looking outside her faded glass window, behind purple drapes,
Drawn back to uncover why she was tired, morning was here,
Despite youth and stillness, she still bowed before forces,
Observed by common melodies, it was the life inside her,
Clawing at her insides, yearning for more blood that did it,
Be patient my dear, soon enough you'll be fed,
Castle Sanguinair is ripe with flesh and wine,
A color most divine.

Richard tore into his violin, slicing the poor thing,
He'd saw right through it if it meant he could save his friends,
Albert strummed his harp, staining it with blood as he cut his fingers,
Christopher breathed in rapidly, filling his flute with constant air,
Their performance reached the gates of castle Sanguinair, lending music,
To those without the means to pay...
Rick acted without hope, knew his arrows wouldn't work,
Played his notes without an audience to hear them,
Each was absorbed into a tangled mass of vines, caught, twisted and snapped,
In that order each time.
Lead by roaring John, Kevin and Paul pressed on,
Into the swallowing green jungle ahead of them.

Each Sharin adept,
Walked at a considerate, gradual pace.
Instructed to never rush a performance,
They intended to let it dictate for them,
The proper time and place.
An audience scheduled days before,
They closed Sharin's door, bid her memory farewell,
Trotted out into the newness of it all,
Here in a spot nestled at the sea's edge,
Colored black by tides of mystery,
Desire would bring the seven humble brothers,
Before the king of Castle Sanguinair,
The kingdom's top archer,
Back before age dethroned and replaced him with,
Nobody.