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The Tale


Sing to me, O' Fortune dire,
A tale of one's worst regard
Yea, one's ill tiding-I wish to know
For my heart is weary from a treacherous path
Where thieves have robbed my last ambition

Then I will tell thee of a lad at sea
Whose confidence was fit to pose
Listen-ethereal, the whispering sea of jade
That forgot this rogue to Fate's concern
And what care has thee?
None of which to say

One night it happened, just now or long ago
A moment stole his future ...then fled into the past
How came his end?
Rumors fly, but none do vow
What was his name?
Not one memory can recall

Alas, forgotten
He is no more
Forever amidst the oceanic floor
The ravenous waves have swallowed him whole
Now seeming so naive, as they creep 'neath the moon

Now the tale is done and I bid thee good night

As well, I to thee, with admiration
Of a story to vanquish mine heart's dogging spite
For I must retire anon
To await the blushing dawn
Sincerely, I wish thee good night

Learn more about this author, Adam Brixey.
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