The horse gallops toward peril.

The world bathed in light, ethereal.

Battered and banished,

yet wearing the vestiges,

of my old master.

From the recesses of my mind,

he speaks,

his voice eloquent,

The danger imminent.

An oblique relic of a foregone age.

His complex lexicon

bridges the chasm

of empty

reverie

inside me.

And still I ride on.

Toward the ominous,

the precarious,

my tenacity, a velocity

even at this doomed hour.

Loyalty, my curse.

Belief, the source,

of my own aching misery.

Free me, I cry,

As I lean on the sword

of my sworn enemy.