Poetry: Qethia

Bardsong: I II III IV

Bardsong I
how I feel, how you see
pointless exclusivity
weary traveller, I've worn your shoes
weary traveller, I've sung your blues
the sun shines nonetheless
the moon flies as you rest
weary traveller, we're face to face
weary traveller, we've found the place
where hate and fear collide
where faith and love provide
weary traveller, your thoughts are mine
weary traveller, our paths entwine
while time leaves its mark upon your face
we'll rise to where there's nothing left but space
weary traveller, hail and farewell
weary traveller, find peace, be well
find peace
be well

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Bardsong II
Pounding hooves and creaking wagon wheels
a sound whose source the morning mist conceals
A trail of ceaseless greetings and farewells
where fortune waits, or heart's desire dwells
So many people, from so many lands
have hurried past my home, the place I stand
What few would save the memory of this town?
No castles or bright tents adorn the ground
our gentle people toil, and tend their kin
our work-worn hands are rough, our faces thin
Yet, much about the land could one find dear
the soil is fertile, water fresh and clear
The villagers do aid the sick and poor
and bravely serve the king when called to war
The wagons rumble past, and round the bend.
I turn, and stand alone at journey's end.

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Bardsong III
Hidden in this seed lies a tree
carried on the wind, the echo of a death cry
who's this face that I see, within the looking glass?
I've carried the years in my hands, time went by
and the sun rose

Gold makes its home in a stream
sunlight is shattered in the crystal that I hold
there lies a city where there once were flowered fields
I've lived in a dream where stars are still, earth is old
and the sun rose

Raising a garden, or raising holy hell
don't be put off by the dirt, the sweat, the smell
you say futility, I see fertility
and home, blessed home

Here where the valley meets the hill
which way up, which way down, does it matter in the end?
burning the day like a candle dripping slowly
I tended the land, went to bed, made a friend
and the sun rose

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Bardsong IV
I’ve slept with some dragons, and some have slept with me
nothing in common, but close as close can be
is it wrong? Well, who's to say?
they love you to death, and fly away

I’ve been making friends with the demons down the street
drinking to victory and dining on defeat
orphaned hearts and outcast minds
nothing holds us back, and nothing binds

It’s true, we've all been false at one time or another
the wisest can fail at telling enemy from brother
we love when we can, but seldom when we should
we hate with good reason, does hatred make us good?

The grinning jaws of judgment are lined with jagged teeth
beware of the angel who gives you holy grief
and who, in the end, will you choose to curse or bless
as I rescue the devil in distress?

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