The Knight

He kneels, head down, face hidden.
Chestnut hair falling, reaching for the ground.
His shoulders heaving, his breathing short,
Unable to let go the scream in his heart.
His tear filled eyes lift towards the sky,
Darker than saphires, he begins to cry.
He once stood straight, he once stood tall,
The only man left unable to fall.
His life was noble, tried and true,
Filled with laughter and eyes of blue.
Yet now here he is, yet now he's found,
Crumpled, crying, lying on the ground.
His soul aches and burns inside,
His legs yearn to run and hide.
His arms reach out the the ruins before,
His blood, from his own wounds pour.
With indignant mind, the tears, they stop.
With stubborn heart, he rises to start,
The love he held for the woman now gone,
The love he holds now pushes him on.
Drawing his sword, planting it in the ground,
Praying to the Lord without making a sound.
With one last sweeping bow,
It’s for her that he rides now.
He will not stop, he will not rest,
Until his skills are put to the test,
Revenge and justice are his only cares,
And the memory of his love and wares.