by Max Barry

Latest Forum Topics

Advertisement

3

DispatchFactbookCulture

by Kemintiri of kemet. . 35 reads.

Black of Knight

༄༅། །ལྷ་སའི་སྐད་། This article contains Tibetan text. Without proper rendering, you may see question marks, boxes or other symbols instead of Tibetan Characters
The Knight upon his silvern steed,
Gazeth unto Eternity…
Helping all those weak in need,
Setting those once captured free…

Armour stannic, lance borne high…
For the Brigands,
End is nigh…
Charging thieves into the ground…

Shining armour, silvern steed…
But not his heart,
For there is no need…
But wanting pleasure for his part…

The libertine Knight is fallen but hidden,
Seeking the prey who are but wan…
For indulging his urges is but forbidden,
Upon two little girls and a young man…

Weak that one young girl was not…
Aiding her an older friend,
He the deity and Prophet…
From the Knight did he defend…

The young man he had called for help,
He who was all alone then…
Fought the blackguard Knight, the alp,
Even when beyond his ken…

The last maiden, violence survived,
Lived through abuse and cruelty…
But for
མུ་ཧ་མད her love, she lived,
Swore foolishly to Knight’s fealty…

Madness reigned over her life,
Visions, prophecies, did come true…
For
མུ་ཧ་མད she longed to be his wife,
Were she not victim of rue…

Her moralism tested, ancient lineage,
Against the Knight, degenerate…
Devotion to
མུ་ཧ་མད was her vestige,
Of cachexy that reigned consummate…

Concern became obsession,
Weakness overcame poor her...
Love was always perversion,
She knew and feared him as a cur…

Ancient lineage forced silence…
Moralism degenerated,
She crossed the line and then the fence…
Where brigands rode against defence…

The Brigand, upon his ebon mount,
Rode through anathema burned…
Pillaging, burning to the ground,
Oft-marked merely half-altered

Blackened rags with barbéd sword,
None dared gaze upon his soul…
Out of fear they made a ward,
A ward of ignorance, never whole…

The maiden, she half-blind and mad,
Skirmishing friends, the defenders...
Daring to speak to the Brigand,
Told him her story, expecting slurs…

Common may the Brigand be,
Pillaging as the daylight faded…
Noble was the Brigand he,
Because for her justice he discloséd…

Tears at emotion’s touch flowed,
Indescribable in any tongue:
With words poetic more like an ode...
From Justice’s heart, the people sung…

Swoop came in the silencer,
Till the people sang no more…
But the song still lilts throughout the air,
As those who know hide from the law…

The crossing of the borderlands,
Few knowing where she went…
Spiriting away at her own hands,
As the Black of Knight now Ends…

Kemintiri of kemet

RawReport