A shadow of a legend crier,

Storied oak perched atop a swirling mountain.

His sword and armor shine alone,

Hamlet need not wallow in the despairing fountain.

Danger calls by wailing siren,

Atop the mountain, a lonely tree spire,

Solitary once again–allocated for fear,

Hungering rescue through smoke and fire.

The symbol of support,

The savior from solitude,

From earth to sky he rises,

From storied oak grows his silent fortitude.

His name is the name of myth,

His eyes the cascades of disaster,

His sword the written accord of legacy,

His armor withered from its master.

And across smoldering remains,

The pathway between life and death,

A shadow of a legend passes over,

To revive and restore for a continued breath.

And when calls of aid cease,

The shadow returns to his spire and den,

And watch with a careful gaze upon the horizon,

Until the beckoning pleas renew again.

Photo by Mateus Campos Felipe on Unsplash