Thursday, March 4, 2010

The Return of the King

See, he returns, in grave triumphant joy,
The warrior returning, from the wars, from the strife
Proud and fierce and tall, who before was bent
Strong now he, whom lately we thought crushed
And bowed, and wounded sore and maimed
And in the end destroyed, yet here he comes.
Beyond all hope, beyond all looked for joy,
The foe lies slain, the hero's sword is sheathed
And he, himself returns to claim his bride.

He crests the hill, and sees her from afar
And calls her name. She hears and knows his voice.
Even from afar, she is all fair.
All pure and white and spotless is his bride
For whom he fought, and bled and all endured.
She scored his heart with pain, yet still he loved,
And now his love is hers, and she is his.
And he to her is more than she could wish
Rugged, strong and brave, a warrior born
Forged to burnished steel in hell's hot flames
Which tried him sore, but could not overcome.
Which only proved his mettle, and his love.

He sees her thus afar, and she sees him.
It is... too much... they can't wait anymore,
But each toward the other cries out and runs.
She stepping lightly, but he, a juggernaut
A perfect storm of peril, strength and speed,
Leaping, bounding, pushing all aside.
He will not be stopped, desire cannot be stayed
Nor even any longer slowed, for now,
His patience sees its end, its one true goal.
He bears down on her with all his burning heart,
A hunter, warrior, lover, husband, king
'Til just before it seems they must collide
(Certain death to her, thrice welcomed end)
He pauses, holds, is still, and draws her close
And gently, gently, seals her with his kiss.

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