All that glitters is not gold.

Is what the counselor consoled .

To the lad who wished to be bold .

Like the heroes he knew of old.

Finding wonders to behold.

Seeking treasures to withhold.

And to finally fit the mould .

Of a person uncontrolled .

Or, so that’s what he was told .

By the voices that cajoled.

Never once fortold.

Of the events that would unfold.

Of the hunger and the cold .

Of the dangers that fate rolled

Withheld from tales sold. 

Beckoning to those who wished to be bold.

To try and fit the mould.

Of the hero’s they Knew of old.

To be taken into the fold.

Of persons to behold.

To have their tales told.

To encourage and embold.

So the lad, he went untold.

Trying to be bold.

As he came across the hunger and the cold.

Facing the dangers that fate dolled.

Still searching for the sights to behold.

Of the treasure to withhold.

Never once consoled.

By the voices that once cajoled.

Still trying to fit the mould.

Of a person uncontrolled.

Like the hero’s he knew of old.

Or so that’s what he told.

To those he tried to embold.

Until one day he fit the mould.

Of a person uncontrolled.

Coming across the sights to behold.

Finding the treasures to withhold.

Though if you were to be told.

By the lad who wished to be bold.

Time had passed and he’d grown old.

Finally seeing passed the tales told.

Of hero’s they knew of old.

Because he had faced the cold.

Defeated the dangers that were dolled.

Overcame the dice that fate rolled.

Because he was controlled.

By the tales that were sold.

To encourage and embold.

Because the lad had grown old.

Didn’t care if his tales Were Told.

By those who wished his story sold.

Because he had claimed the gold.

By his deeds and what he could hold.

And in the end for the lad who had wished to be bold.

It hadn’t been worth it.