The Sword That Beckons

Young wizard, boy of youthful spree

Would seek to harness what would be

For in his thoughts he saw a tree

A burning forest none could flee

Yet with coming terror plain

His smiling thoughts they did remain

For nothing in the clouds contained

Gloom enough to halt his brain

In solace dungeon he began

To enact his fateful plan

Heeding not the withered hand

Who said from this he should have ran

In a rusty cauldron, he

Poured a liquid from the tree

And within the cloud that billowed free

He saw the flame that soon would be

Within the fire he saw the wings

The Raven's caw, the sunlit springs

The shadowed figure held the thing

The key no darkened thought could sting

When he saw the figure's face

His whereabouts he tried to trace

And just before the sight erased

He saw the storm, the visage place

Near enough, the soldier's eyes

He'd seen once gracing noble skies

Who had no heed for woeful cries

What sorry tongues precede demise

So taking up his rusty spell

The wizard made for rock and dell

The valley where the soldier fell

When the world was fiery hell

He called him, cast him from the clay

Gave him rock and branch to play

A game that failed yesterday

To keep the fiery fate away

Not alone they would go on

To halt the servants of the dawn

As dragon quake and raven spawn

To keep the sky from being gone