14 November 2012
Once upon a time - long ago, There was a land of sand and snow, A distant realm beyond the seas, Barren of grass, flowers and trees.
Frozen wastes and a burning plain, A realm where life did not remain, Save that of a single village, That the land had yet to pillage.
It sat atop a cliff of ice, Where everyday the winds would slice, The sea below would freeze their skin, And hunger rumbled deep within.
Dying slowly, these people were, Freezing despite cloaks of fur, But this land was all they knew: The wastes where nothing ever grew.
They had no other home to go, Only the Waste of Frozen Snow, In their village where none could cope, And so they'd die, absent of hope.
Except for that of a young boy, Whose hope the cold could not destroy, For his mind was filled with tales, That Elders told when all else fails.
Tales of legend, myth and lore, Fables of lands where birds did soar, Tales of creatures no longer seen, Stories of when the land was green.
There was one that stood out in mind, One that he had sworn to find; The tale of a real, distant land, Known as The Plain of Burning Sand.
Far to the South, they said it lay, A magic land, once home to Fey, Beings of old, said to heal, Life - they could create, take or seal.
So, off he went, bags all packed, To find this distant land intact, He sneaked away into the night, Filled with hope and a goal in sight.
The journey was long, cold and fearful, Soon, regret set in - eyes tearful, The food he brought was running out, And of this land, he now had doubt.
Yet, soon the days indeed grew warm, And the land did indeed transform, Before his very eyes, snow melted, Winds calmed and no longer pelted.
In the distance, he saw a glow, A yellow sheen that seemed to grow, And suddenly, he left his land, Walking now on golden sand.
The heat, at once, was too much, The sand beneath seared at a touch, He shed his furs, now left to burn, To the cold, he'd never return.
He walked and walked without an aim, Heading deeper into the flame, His heart and soul filled with despair, This land was equally as bare.
A wasted journey, this he thought, His hope a lie, it all for nought, Wherever he went, all was dead, It was just as the Elders said.
"There are no Fey or magic left, Gone, taken, stolen; theft, And now the realm is doomed to die," They had told him, sigh after sigh.
With sudden change, the sand had stopped, In front of him, the earth now dropped, A dried up ravine, drained out clean, Yet shocked, the boy could see green.
A tiny tree rested on moss, That covered the ravine across, The boy approached in a daze, A tree! A tree before his gaze!
He reached to touch the little tree, But stopped at what he could foresee, The tales! The tales! The Trees of Fey! He cried and then began to pray.
As if it heard, out sprung a light, And floated up before his sight, Inside his mind he heard a voice, That offered him an easy choice.
"We Fey deal in riddles, young one, Answer mine and your will be done, But if you fail, I will leave, And abandon you all to grieve."
The boy nodded, he knew the deal, The tales told of how Fey seal, The light grew bright, almost blinding, The sign of a wish in binding.
"In the dark night, a phantom sings, It soars and spreads its feathered wings, Above the gloomy human crowd, The world calls to it out loud.
At dawn, away the phantom darts, To be reborn in every heart, And every night it's born anew, And every day it dies in you."
The voice then ceased, awaiting answer, Light twirling like a dancer, "Answer true, for it's in you, The last your world ever knew."
The boy thought for many hours, Never doubting the light's powers, The village people would not cope, For he knew, he was their last -
"Hope."
Light enveloped all he could see, Bursting forth from the little tree, "Correct," the Fey happily sang, As grass, flowers and trees then sprang.
The sea of gold soon turned to green, Life replaced all that had been, Birds sang high up in the sky, The ravine was no longer dry.
He rushed home to tell all he had done, A tale of his own now to be spun, That if you can no longer cope, Remember - never give up hope.
The Land Of Ice And Fire • Opuss № I