“‘Tis so often we see on high that it is like rain. The thing that kings dream of and heroes possess; An end or beginning of such tales, which mortals call doom. The birthright of tragedy; a speck of hope in despair. As blades of grass are crushed ‘neath heedless foot So too shall the skein of woven fate Crumble and break Upon this earth. Yet for this one, the star shines brightest now, At fire’s waning and the moment hammer strikes. ‘Twill spell her fate, the wretched child Who would dice upon the table of worlds with Gods. But quick, we fly on! To bear witness for friendship burgeoning. And
...more
