The Quest

Against the wall once again
I looked towards the sun
The burning orb that led the way
For all my sorrow and tribulations
For it was said in our ancient tales
The path to freedom was towards the setting sun

So I travelled for many days
Within the weeks in many months
To find that freedom told
By griots and shamans and bards of old
For freedom was bought by nothing
But yellow metals called gold

There I stand with thoughts chagrined
For nothing was there to see
But wasteland created
By hardship and famine
The land, the crushed deserted land
Was nothing worth to see

Nor tarry, nor plant, or nothing be
I thought of my kinfolks more
And freedom to restore
From kings and conquerors
That used them for labour
I, a prince would pay the price

For people who adored
The trampled grass beneath their feet
By horses of soldiers, mine to harbour
A battle for land and sovereignty
Ensued in my land of the East
Battled with white ghostly men

They rode tall on swift horses,
Roars of anger and fierceness
Unheard before in our domain
With fires they destroyed
Burnt our city to the ground
Trampled villages to oblivion

They demanded for gold
Yellow metal we never knew
Tales heard from griots
and shamans and bards of old
Trampled to the ground were we
Princes and serfs became slaves all

Left I, to look for the yellow metal
To buy the shackles off our feet
I, the Prince must find the gold
To buy my kinfolks free
To retreat beyond the mountains
Where no one dare go

From there, the kingdom I shall rule
With affection and propriety
No swords nor spears
Shall mar my people
Or insensible battles for a proper war
But I must seek the gold I need

Buried gold under cavern
beyond the setting sun
The merciless sun
The parched land
Held me to the core
Wasted my youthful wisdom

Flowing dew upon the ground
Wilted me like parchment
On ancient walls
Thus rising like a phoenix
From the ground that I had fallen
I rose up here gossamer light

I watch, now, the setting sun
Stand solitary against the wall
Watching the darkening sky
And the grave yards on the meadow
Markers like hands clawing the air
To reach the freedom of the blue sky

Seek I gold in vain
For lo, the night is come
I stand here still
A guardian Prince on the field of Shadows
Gold undisposed underneath the cavern
Far away in the land of wistful dreams

I hear the toll of distant bells
For battle won and war that’s lost
I shall listen to such calls no more
For my kinfolks and I are slaves
no more, for all are free and repose beneath
the tranquil silent green sod.