03-05-2012 11:39 PM
Lion of Winter
An indigo sail kissed by molten riches,
Billowing to a high and mighty breadth,
Unfurled and blowing, small rents peek and glow.
Eyes opened by a comet's flight,
Fading stars chasing down the morn'
Voice of the nocturne,
Wafting down the way,
Strangeways to Nowhere,
A path hidden by the light,
A way known only to the dreamers,
The chasers of a certain, drifting duck,
Who have followed it through the night.
Voice of the nocturne,
Singing with sail,
The snap and billow,
The mourning of a siren's words,
The verse of a willow,
As by the bank it stands, weeping.
Gone beyond its sight,
The duck and the dreamers passed
Chasing the Strangeways to Nowhere,
Searching for a half broken, full glass.
Looking and seeing,
Within these paths,
These Strangeways to Nowhere,
The duck can only take them so far.
In the tail of a comet,
Through the eyes of a star,
To the heart of a storm,
The Glass of Looking and Seeing,
The answer to a riddle's true form.
There is only one,
Alone, this one, alone,
Who knows the path between,
The Strangeways to Nowhere.
A figure of Legend,
Hewn of the Living Stone,
Endowed of wings and words,
A mane and a fercious frown.
Outside a place of endless wonders,
A portal to the Strangeways,
A mighty legion of steps and stones,
The Stepping Stones,
He mounts an unceasing guard,
Wakened by the Voice of Nocturne.
A dusting of snow his haloed crown.
In the heart of the cold,
In the dark of the night,
The beating of a silent heart,
An echoing, clarion pound.
Nine the Rampant, a Lion of Winter,
Born of the Living Stone,
Blinks eyes of amber and flexes claws,
Molded of ivory, encasing bone.
The Living Stone,
The Breathing Art,
Loosed upon the Strangeways to Nowhere,
To the aid of the Night Galleon,
He has been called,
To guide the dreamers, one and all.
Against the ice, binding down his wings,
Nine begins to fight,
Sheening coat and limbs cracking and flowing.
Freedom from the pedestal,
That has bound him,
Tail and mane and bone.
Locked in a hardened, breathing prison,
Known as the Living Stone.
By the Voice of the Nocturne,
The Call of a Crow,
The Tear of the Owl,
By the Blood of the Snow.
To the defense of the Dreamers,
Onward and forward,
Massive paws gather, bound into the night,
Over the virga, chasing the stream.