Truthful Flute
A righteous knight gets wounded in the battle and is breathing his last. He has some eye-opening wisdom to share with his successors.
There was a knight who fought for the sun,
And his brave chivalry shone so bright.
In the hundredth battle, he fell to one,
Into a shower of red and golden light.
With a clang, things fell from hands,
And their knees kissed the wet, red ground.
Clasped palms prayed, but on the battle lands,
Cried those who loved, beside the howling hounds.
His last breath preached careful words,
A song of wisdom into the ears of towering sons.
The work of sooth he had played like a mockingbird,
And wished it had reached the same desperate ones.
"Call for light, beware of choice,
And they will look at you with tangled eyes.
But perhaps they shall come to praise
The shining armor beneath."
"Fight for light, beware of choice,
And they will sing flutes in your name.
But perhaps they shall come to envy
The proud chest of thyself."
"Die for light, beware of choice,
And they will cry, promise remembrance.
But perhaps they all are lying,
For you are to be forgotten anyway."