Thunder rumbling overhead,
the day's grotesque war was over,
turning back on the sight before me
while others grasped to life,
I removed the rusting,
blood-stained helmet from my matter,
sweat covered brow;
My heart's strings pulling only
towards those left behind,
towards those I protected;

In reaching home,
I saw everything gone,
dead before my eyes;
Survivors find me and mourn,
"He's gone! He's perished!"
Tear-drenched and wrinkled hands
lead me to the place;
Roses and candles stand monuments...
The child king who ruled with a
god-fearing hand,
who will come again and regain his
lost Utopia...
Arthur Pendragon.