Alone I sit, amidst the ruin,
Pierced by Truth’s steely glare.
All aspirations, toil and accolades
Lie broken, beauty removed, decayed
Stripped and bare.
What would have been never shall be
Only tokens of what was remain.
Accusing voices whisper in the cold
Of what should have been, what wasn’t done
And secrets stabbing, revealed in their refrain.
What’s past is past, what’s done is done,
The story finally told.
All that was noble, all that was grand,
Now just something old.
No reason to linger, pondering is done.
Death has closed the door.
Time to move on, time to get Real,
From Fantasy to what was Before.
Before the dream, before the quest,
Before the fall from grace.
Back to where it all began,
Where time cannot deface.
The Sacred Fool