Tales

With the dew, the song did start,

With the thaw, the song did grow,

In all hearts that warmed,

But them, the flints, smile slow!

Them that the waves wearied,

With time, still does the blood flow.

The red still be in those veins,

Those that are but etched deep.

Of all the water that has passed over,

Them, the bards do not sleep.

That sky of those days, be that blue,

These mirrors veil, time tells true.

Them be but the tales of a winter,

Be but flighty whispers this spring!

Those tales that the old bards told,

Newer tunes do bolder hearts bring.

The old chapters been buried now,

Old love, old hearts loosely sold.

Voices of reason for shiny toys,

Flights of reason for lovers bold.

Oh that we would love and forget,

For forget we do to love again.

Those deeds be done, be tales now,

To be buried, forgotten and laid low.

For the pages still be and 

Ink there is to fill!

We will start a new story,

Sing a new song, we will!

For we are but men, in images of gods,

Them we built, them the fickle lot.

A grand story always ends in circles,

Them, those tales will always be.

Those tales have always been old,

Old tales of newer days, will always be!

(PS: Why do our tales never change! )