When he was five he'd been told he would save them from their hunger. He grew with this, and it grew with him. It was in his water and in his step. He bore this crown, but for him it was light.
He'd heard the thunder, but he couldn't bind the lightning.
He grew to his day of naming. And with twenty years he left before we had given him his name. He stole our dreams, and carried it around the world. And he spent them to purchase the eyes of the world.
He'd heard the thunder, but he couldn't bind the lightning.
When he returned to us the years had rid us of the strength which was his twin born. And the world had broken him. He had ridden it to a walking grave. But that was the day the rain came.
No comments:
Post a Comment