Lunar Poetry by Vincent DeLoire

Dark Divinity

Sing to me the tale
of the warrior long past
skilled in the manners of the mind and soul
and quick of action.

Sing to me the tale
of the golden tongued devil
whose mere words were enough
to quell the rashness of an entire race.

The firebrand above all
the brightly shining spirit
masked behind a suit of
darkness and bloodshed.

To be challenged,
to fight,
to win?
Is that the true warriors calling?

Magical prowess,
the potential to be
darkest yet most divine of rulers.

Yet all is given away, for the warriors truest of desires.
To fight,
to bleed,
to die,
to rest eternally.

Yet the fires of hell were not suitable.
Nay, not in any sense.
Left a damning curse from the people,
he had no solace.
No rest.
Not a single soul could understand.
And so,
he returns.
No rest for the wicked, his summoner thought.

Old habits indeed die hard,
as his gilded tongue deceived the very being
that had given him another chance.
No, not another cursed afterlife.
No more hellfire and grief.
Now is the time for redemption.

The world's hope saved,
a new hero made,
the people finally understood.

As the evil was vanquished,
the warrior stood,
as he ascended to his rightful place
amongst the clouds.

Such is the tale of the warrior long past,
the golden tongued devil,
and inspiration to all heroes,
be they famous or humble.
Such is his dynamic.

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