The Orphan
By: Kevra Posted on: March 28, 2004
He peers up at me,
With deep, beseeching eyes.
Young, he looks
yet his eyes say otherwise
Uneducated, yet learned
In the weary paths of life
Indeed, an Achaean Ranger in
The Fellowship of Strife
Like a tired mule, tireless
He plods on from day to day;
The days stretch
into eternity
With no destination
No purpose.
Small and weak, he seems,
With frail thin hands,
But he is a warrior!
One of the strongest
in the land.
He fights hard
every single day
For what?
For life!
To continue living!
He will not give up! Never!
No, not like the people he's seen,
Suiciding,
Fighting
Dying.
For nothing.
Life has naught to offer him,
But he chooses to live,
Chooses to breath.
Fighting Lord Thoth.
Refusing the tempting promise
Of Oblivion,
How much strength and willpower
That must take.
I can only imagine.
He peers up at me,
With deep wise eyes,
His spirit shines from their depths
He looks up and sighs.
He moves on,
As he knows he can.