Paladin

A poetic tale about rising back up and creating miracles for others.

A praying hand. Artwork by Dan J

It was the moment when dawn began,
its light reflected the morning thoughts,
the standard brain fog and uninspiring first steps outside,
it had not been a restful night.

The armour was supposed to be rock solid,
but the man felt like broken kneecaps.
Perhaps the future could be better,
with nothing going on, even in this medieval time.
He had an absolute determination to make it so.

Those broken wings, holding the tiniest of willpower left,
now forced to live through a weakened surrounding,
the plague was here and he was to remove it.
Still unwavering strong,
he tried using his broken wing once more.
Can he still fly, he wondered.

Pounding the ground with broken kneecaps,
how could he create the next miracle now?
His veins still held that holy power.
He knew he had to see for himself,
perhaps he could force one more miracle.
Did he have it in him to force this next miracle?

Time was of the essence,
a breathing paladin still.
It seemed heaver and heavier to get air.
His heart was in the right place, his shoulders light from a lifetime of creating miracles.
He was battle-worn to the brink of collapse. and he knew it.
He had to make the most out of each remaining day.

There was blood only he could see.
Each battle won, each miracle created, left wounds.
A blade, both a blessing and a curse,
he held a tool that scars his soul.
He missed his youth and the holy, unscarred soul he once possessed.

A horse was his friend only friend now.
He should have become a blacksmith, he knew that.
His spirit was the keeper of good, without a lock and key.
He had proven, time and time again, his true good through his own actions.
Now his now he was battle-worn and weathered from fighting the evil,
evil that refused to banish for very long.

He was the carrier of pain for others, with a smile, gentle and polite attitude,
just as his training had once taught him.
Now he knew the burden of too much.
He had long tried to figured out a way to toss such burdens away,
yet it remained there, within him, burdens of thousands of others.

He faced the limitations of his lifetime.
He had the gift within him;
the holy within him banished the dark.
Battle after battle, he went through this life,
Now he grew weaker on the outside,
yet remained as strong as ever on the inside.

He knew
it was time,
time to keep believing in the good
and banish the evil.