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The Cry of Pikahl

(The Mote to the Mountain, Forever)



When raven darkness with cruel talon tears
The fragile flame of our breath'ed faith
And dreamful hopes the just heart bears
Fall victim to the preying wraith


The shield o'er the weak lies shattered in twain
While blood of the righteous flows without cease
The comrades fight bravely, yet fall to the bane
Their graves harrow'ed, barring last restful peace


The mote to the mountain, forever.


How, then, lies the field, when all hath been lost
In the dark, in the fear, without chance
Success long since fled, and knowing its cost
How dost thou stand true with thy lance


'For one reason remains,' cries the sole standing soul
'There remains still a deed to be done
Ne'er easy to take is the sound of doom's toll
Or to stand fast with the truth to be sung


The mote to the mountain, forever.


O! Pikahl! I am thine, and so shall I do
Until to the land is my burnished blade lain
While sword's need is here, my hand holdeth true
When hand's strength is gone, still faith will remain


Against our foes, their wrongs, I call
'When all is lost... I stand for all


The mote to the mountain, forever.



written by Jerred, aka Sir Gareth Arr, paladin and champion of Pikahl