Galahad

A child born to test his world

No heralds came before

He walked beneath the shadow sky

Yet opened every door

Held of him a tiny star

Encased in silver locket

Placed by one long vanished far

To fate’s unknowing pocket

Every eve at sunset’s hush

Stars would pulse with light

Spiral flames would softly rise

Into the licorice night

He bore no sword nor wore a crown

Yet kingdoms shaped his way

He spoke his stillness into dawn

Where no others knelt to pray

One road wound across the ridge

Where fate and silence blend

He stood alone for none to see

His will would mark the end

Tales of him were ghostly winds

Bespoken on the breeze

Monk of peace in forests still

He moved among the trees

Shattered myths and lost beliefs

Were echoes of his name

He never struck, yet battles ceased

And fires lost their flame

Heir of stars and mountain dreams

Threads within their weaving

No blood was spilled to win a throne

No war for his soul grieving

Years of stillness shaped his will

No kingdom claimed his hand

Yet when he touched the spiral fire

It answered his command

Light and shadow bowed to him

The bridge began to shine

Merlin’s last and brightest gift

Stepped past the edge of time

No one knew the final truth

Of how this tale would bend

Legends breath a softer name

Sweet Galahad my friend

This circle drawn by all before

Of Grails, of swords, and fire

Not in conquest, not in tears

Just stillness, rising higher

-Hermit King-