She Who Fed the Flame, Prologue: Invitation
A cordial welcome to you, our honored guest. Come hear this tale of mine.
A royal crown does matter not, Should none respect on whom it rests. Now crane your ears to what I bought At such a cost of one lived life. From ages old, our oath attests and binds our line, by harp and knife, To guide this land through life's harsh tests, Lest gods decide to curse this place. Yet kin left me to priest, midwife, When my birth did end Mother's race. My father, regent, deep in strife, Has let thirteen years pass estranged. My elders saw how he gave space To one so small as I, short-changed. They thought my rule, his acts debase And sought to give me other climb. So they prayed deep for my fate changed, And She Who Keeps The Flame, incline'. Beyond our time and space, She ranged To seek a monster for my quest. Amidst the stars' totems, begrimed, She found Her hybrid who failed test-- Machine and flesh in one; now slime-- To ferry me to yonder shore. My Lady fair, allow our guest To hear my tale and what we swore. Unstop Time's wheel, at my behest; Return us to those fateful times.
*Note: this story will now be replacing and integrating the kinds of poems I once wrote. Now that I have a direction to organize towards, I shall go back and formalize the important poems from my previous works into its own anthology.