|
Beyond the king's strong
castle,
|
|
The Labyrinth's winding walls,
|
|
The forest's green-leaf tassels,
|
|
The mountains great and tall,
|
|
There stands a red-clay desert,
|
|
With plateaus wondrous high,
|
|
Its shadows stretch out long
and dark,
|
|
Its winds shall never die.
|
|
|
|
One must pass the winding
terrain,
|
|
Through the lush, green woods,
|
|
Over the coldness of mountain's
pain,
|
|
To where the sun does brood.
|
|
There the gift of power is
found,
|
|
Atop the highest plain,
|
|
There it will stay, quiet
and sound,
|
|
Until one comes to gain.
|
|
|
|
Only the pure and good of
heart
|
|
May reap this treasure's
rewards,
|
|
But once from those hands
it does depart,
|
|
Its evil ways will soar.
|
|
|
|
Silent in beauty,
|
|
Quiet in thought,
|
|
Its powers doth grow,
|
|
While enemies fought.
|
|
Its gleaming, bright brilliance,
|
|
Its violet light,
|
|
Its painstaking innocence,
|
|
While enemies still fight.
|
| |
|
- by Judith Agrathea
|
| |
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