westward till I crossed the river's pebbled ford,
journeying as a solitary stranger dressed in somber grey.
On the second evening of a moondimmed pitch
the night became bathed in a blazing light,
as screams rose louder from the torched city.
Arriving upon Uruk's frightful confusion,
where a firery slaughter had awakened its slumbering guards;
its warriors caught unaware by a stealthy enemy.
I entered that battle unsumonsed -
with bow at ready and dagger sheathed
searching, without finding its cause for alarm.
As if still cloaked, my presence went unnoticed
as the people ran in panicked defense;
I sought that precious maiden who had won my heart.
She who gave my life its renewed purpose
and refuge during that time of my foolish exile;
ere Ra`More's fell demise by Nephilim hands.
"Erin-Enava!" I cried in vain in the night;
stepping through the body littled streests
as smoke gathered in that burning city of men.
A voice that once sang to me with laughter,
now faintly called amid the bleating commands of a whip;
from a house which blazed near the Eastern Gate.
Entering that smoldering threshold I saw her
crouching upon the floorwith blocked arms
warding off the blow of a raised whip.
A Nephilim dressed in silver-black's High garb
stood over his subdubed victim in mid swing'
quickly turned his mithrel armor to my inturtion.
We stood rival to rival at last facing our choice;
unwavering my arrow let loose to protect -
found its hiddious mark deep within his chest.
In one fell move the pain melted away the years;
he slumpt to his knees and fell upon his side
as his helmeted face was suddenly revealed.
The scribe stared as his brother's voice
came from the heap before him, "Feandar!
Betrayed... it's over, now I see..." Whip released.
Raptured from that baneful placed I gathered Enava
unto myself in a smothering embrace
as we fled those crumbling timber flames.
Beyond the city's burning wall I was counted
among those homeless ones who stared with
hollowed, numbed nothingness.
Enava lay dead in my arms, limp warmth
as her beauty remained to me unmarred
with her ashen face and rent garments.
"My Morning Love" remained forever unchanged
in my memories, yet her cooling form returned
not the sweet affecction we once exchanged.
I allowed her daughter to clean and redress her;
as after my people's fashion I consecrated her
with oils and spices, then bound her in my cloak.
Long I sat by her side meditating of our love;
lives briefly lived then quickly taken away -
tender was my soul-mate which none could replace.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I've seen this several times on other sites, and have now gotten into it myself. Photobucket seems to be a photo sharing resource, with tags for Templates and such... heumm - cool, stumbling and learning new things.
"Click" link and type Falconmyst, or whatever you may be SEARCHing.
"...The only way we can win the war on terrorism, folks, is to destroy the terror of liberalism and evil that exists inside this Christian Nation. It starts with the children. It starts at home. It might be something as simple as organizing a Harry Potter book burning, or placing your child's hands on a hot stove if you catch them masturbating. It could even be a simple gesture, like shipping your 11-year-old son off to military school, or cutting off part of your daughter's ear for listening to N'Sync. We've got to get back to God, folks! We've got to do it fast, and we don't have time to worry about nonsense like "human rights violations!" Jesus, Please allow us to legally do what you tell us to do in that precious Book your Daddy wrote!"