Glories of Old.

Woke up dreaming of a knight made from fire built on resistance. A man who burned the ground with passion. Pulling through it a new faction. A young man with an old heart.

One who gets lost but ends up ahead. A man who’s mind gets him confused but I am here to make the voices hush. Those damning voices that give fear a mask. To this brave night I serve words that make men lull and sleep without a hush.

Brave knight, one who possessed strength to start and fight. Dreaming brighter even when we unbelievers brought him down to our dust.

He didn’t back down, when the risk decimated, he used the ash to build will. He tried his luck at it but a lesson was handed from a tusk. Broken at dusk, reinvigorated at dawn. Regained his lost rush with a lust of glories of old.

I see that power that’s awakening within. The one that lay domant before his heart took it’s first risk. Run on swordsman. Tear through the land with a smug and a thrush. Push hard into battles fought before.

Bracing the raging sea, looking fear dead in the eye. Give it a smug grin finish it with a smile. I know he sees it the victories from countless defeats. I know he feels it. The value from toils with unborn fruits.

The lessons he learned, building an army from a charisma that bewitchingly charms. The curves on the road, the braced and embraced and with every thrush, every pull he made the world his own.

Eventually none could make him cower,for the gallantry in his heart, who could come against such power. Passion enflared. What can’t he conquer to make his dreams of old…the glories he’s deemed worthy of possessing his to own.

Young man a message from heroes of old. Never stop dreaming, chasing angels, grow bold.

Never stop believing in yourself.