The Orphan

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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.