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What if I told you of a story?
A story of a man
A story of a man that never lived
A story of a man that never lived...and never died
A man that sought what was not
A man that sought what was not his
A man that sought what was not his to take?
What was this man?
What was this man after?
What was this man after all?
What was this man after all this?
Even now, his words ring silently
Even now, his words ring true
Even now, his words ring to me
Even now, his words ring to you
The man marched against all
Sword in hand
The man sought his call
And took his stand
Stand he did, but I do not lie
He did not live, and he did not die.
He sought to change much
the ideals of his time
He found nonesuch
And dealt a great crime
He cheated that which must be fairly treated.
This story is of these days
These days of crimes and the judgment that pays
Visits on doors of guilty to judge
Those who upon whom one does begrudge
This story is strange
This story is false
This story is true
And this is the cause
For stories be like the space between skies
One be the page, the other the eyes
In stories that end after one dies
There be a way to scry truth from lies
You might call that a blessing, you might a curse
In this Verse of Vagrants
This Vagrant Verse...
A story of a man
A story of a man that never lived
A story of a man that never lived...and never died
A man that sought what was not
A man that sought what was not his
A man that sought what was not his to take?
What was this man?
What was this man after?
What was this man after all?
What was this man after all this?
Even now, his words ring silently
Even now, his words ring true
Even now, his words ring to me
Even now, his words ring to you
The man marched against all
Sword in hand
The man sought his call
And took his stand
Stand he did, but I do not lie
He did not live, and he did not die.
He sought to change much
the ideals of his time
He found nonesuch
And dealt a great crime
He cheated that which must be fairly treated.
This story is of these days
These days of crimes and the judgment that pays
Visits on doors of guilty to judge
Those who upon whom one does begrudge
This story is strange
This story is false
This story is true
And this is the cause
For stories be like the space between skies
One be the page, the other the eyes
In stories that end after one dies
There be a way to scry truth from lies
You might call that a blessing, you might a curse
In this Verse of Vagrants
This Vagrant Verse...
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© 2011 - 2024 Vagrant-Verse
Comments8
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This is really interesting. Could you offer a commentary on the meaning of this piece? It is indeed enigmatic, and although I can guess as to the meaning, with things like this it's easy to misinterpret or miss things.