The Knight

Staring at the black ceiling, waiting,
For the sound of raindrops that was promised in the evening,
By the dark, heavy clouds that convened overhead,
And the unmistakable smell of mud made wet.

Suddenly a flash of white brightens the room for an instant,
And a smile comes to my face as I hear the thunder in the distance,
Because to me the rain is not the gloomy, depressing scene that most people see,
But a torrent of joy to wash my sins off me.

The sound of the raindrops fill my head,
Like an aquaeous symphony around my bed.
The sanity in me slowly fading away,
As I start to dream in shades of gray.

Dragons and Demons battle each other,
Fighting with swords, fighting with fire.
At long last they break to attend the wounded,
As the Black Knight watches from on the hill, sillhouted.

He keeps watch over them everday, as the battle rages,
But never meddles with their War of Ages.
Knowing that with limitless power comes great responsibility,
He waits till he's ready to fulfill his destiny.

But tonight's that night; he rides down the hill,
To take his crown, and do that he will.
To punish the Wrong, and honour the Right,
That time arrives now, before the end of the night.

He stops halfway and raises his sword,
Towards the sky, above the crowd.
He summons the rain, without so much as an utterance,
And the War is swept away, finally bringing deliverance.

The Knight calls out to the people hidden underground,
And creates a world where love is abundantly found.
The Knight rolls over in his bed and smiles to his own,
As the rain outside reminds him he's not alone.