the reticent raconteur

There is a secret I've been keeping, a story true and genuine,

And I have not the candid heart to keep it's burden clandestine.

For it's gravity is as weighty as a mountain capped in snow, and it's memory repeats inside of me, ostinato,

And every time I think of the Balrog, I recall
The fear upon their faces and the doomed fate of them all
I saw death become of light, and life become of fire
I saw it from my hiding place, within the quagmire
I bringeth forth the drama, unabridged, and unignored
The battle of the Balrog, and the mighty lightning lord.

0 Kudos

Comments

Displaying 0 of 0 comments ( View all | Add Comment )