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There are dragons
And there is death
There is a great journey
And lengthy is such a quest.
The moment ambition strikes
Alea iacta est.

But solely for he who yearns
He who sojourns
He who leaves a trail
Leaves not just crumbs but evidence of trial.
A recording of Herodotus,
Memories from Apollo’s lyre.

Strike down as Arthur
Be the manifestation of Imhotep’s curse
Egress the valley and cross the river
Cross into glory, into fame, into honor
Become the man who becomes the arena’s namesake

Take
Only what is necessary and leave a better place.
Take
Care and caution
Beware sowing in overabundance a bastion
Where the walls and spikes are high and the sally port closed
When scaling and escape become nigh impossible
What actions bring one at the precipice of the foretold
Whose demeanor repels any savior shining
And leaves those hurt wondering why

In the end, the play will run its course
The curtain will be withdrawn and the players will bow
Were you the shrubbery or a horse?
Or did I make the tears of the watcher flow?
Will the name be remembered fifty years after the hearse?
In the end, will I have contributed a verse?




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