deepundergroundpoetry.com
An ode to a friend I never met
The night is cold snow gently falls
The spear in my hand is heavy like the earth
An old voice from long ago calls
I can hear it around the hearth
This ember of the life is not truly mine
Awoke in a black spire to death and decay
The flame gives borrowed time
From someone who's name I will never say
That was your spear stabbed into the dirt
It felt familiar in my hands like an old friend
Then in my heart I began to hurt
The pain I felt I knew it was from your end
You fell next to that spire
Next to the spear was a skull worn white
Cold, alone, and bleeding until you tire
This flame I hold now to finish your ancient fight
The spear in my hand is heavy like the earth
An old voice from long ago calls
I can hear it around the hearth
This ember of the life is not truly mine
Awoke in a black spire to death and decay
The flame gives borrowed time
From someone who's name I will never say
That was your spear stabbed into the dirt
It felt familiar in my hands like an old friend
Then in my heart I began to hurt
The pain I felt I knew it was from your end
You fell next to that spire
Next to the spear was a skull worn white
Cold, alone, and bleeding until you tire
This flame I hold now to finish your ancient fight
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