The Last Bastion

Sep 25, 2021 | Poetry

To the Far East,
Beyond the ancient forests’ end,
Where the Endless Grass Seas begins,

There stands a Tower.
A once mighty Guard.
The Last Bastion of the West…

This Guardian lies in ruins,
But still forever watching.
The cold winter breeze
Touches its stone face.

Around, as far as the eye can see,
No tree can be spotted.
Only snowy hills and dales,
The northern frozen tundra,
And yellowing ancient grass,
Balding earth, without shrubs,
And to the Far East…
The Endless Greenish Seas.

This lonely Guardian awaits,
Those hordes of deadly riders.
Standing there tall and proud,
Yet long abandoned…

Outer round walls in ruins,
Dotted with holes,
Resting in mounds.

The road that once led there,
Now in poor shape scars the land.
Only dust, earth and sand
Settles upon the walketh path.

The stairs leading to its hall,
The yard, once filled with life,
In the middle a once green Oak…
Now in ruins and the hall hollow,
The yard empty and cold…
O’ once great withered Oak.
No Man resides there.
No one to man the post!

Yet the old ruins are still there,
Slowly consumed by passing time.
Only the long faded banners
Still dance in the cold wind’s pass.

To the Far East,
Beyond the ancient forests’ end
Where the Endless Grass Seas begins,

The once mighty Guardian
Still watches proudly.
Yet long abandoned it stands.