I have crossed the mountains with bare feet. Willfully crushing each rock beneath. Leaving a conspicuous trail of ink, The Others no longer dare to seek. A waking land once overthrown, By lurid monsters claiming thrones, From the gloom a light has grown, Touting myth of a Seraph known. And I remain concealed, withdrawn. Keen eyes ceaselessly watching on, Until the day he will return, And our reunion engraved in song.
The years rush by in gales of wind, Whilst no vestige surfaces of him. And so I take hold of steel again, To ward off minions of the Grim. My weapon choice evolves with time, From baleful edge to Eagle eye. And with each triumph over crime, My waning hope to find him dies.