Silvery Ragwood laid an opaque trail
In dusty reminiscence of yesterday's fair words.
Love for himself and his beautiful wife,
Who drank from a chalice hewn from the golden splashes of the sun.
His mind was pure,
But his heart carried the burden of sins for every man,
And she would never again gaze upon the the blue waters of the sapphire lagoon.
Yet together they lived,
And laughed with the innocence of an elfin prince who had no care.
They were ageless amd timeless,
And even the very essence, that they wore like a mystical shroud,
Was created not of this earth,
But by the master of the clouds,
Who moulded their bond in a forge of deep rustic charm.
And seven daughters of the lordly eagle made fast their union,
With the silver thread of unfinished dreams.
But Silvery Ragwood wanted more.
He cherished thoughts of harnessed power,
And gorged himself on vultures blood to feed his strength.
Then all of the birds lost their voice,
And the sky no longer held their song.
The kingly men who ruled their hearts flew down to earth
And chastised Ragwood and the people of his caste.
So Silvery Ragwood laughs no more,
His tears are never ones of joy,
But nothing can take away the palace of his memories.