Wednesday, October 8, 2014

The Final Stand

Read the poem while playing the video.

We are the last hope. 
We are the chance that the world has. 
This item, this sword, this energy, this responsibility, 
that lies within my hands, 
Can either destroy this place that we call home, 
or bring it back from these ashes. 

As the skeletal warriors enter, 
With the king of the evilness watches from above,
I wield the sword high at my head. 
If I am expected to save the last hope of humanity, I shall fight. 
I shall not stop doing so until everyone of these vile beings has been destroyed. 

The battle goes on for days and nights. 
Weeks and years. 
Years and decades. 

The hunger intensifying, 
The fatigue excruciating, 
The cuts bleeding, 
as the army of one thousand , 
the army of one million, 
the army of one billion, 
fights the lone warrior. 

With the acidic rain pouring on my head 
With withered trees shriveled up along the ground,
with the toxic air within the sky, 
I see hope. 

I see hope of a better land. 
I see hope of a peaceful land. 
I see hope of success. 

So after each fall, 
each strike, 
each hit, 
I grip this sword tighter, 
I hold my head higher,
and continue to fight 

The fallen have seen me, 
and the gods have praised me. 

I will join the clan of the pure-bloods. 
The people of the elements, 
the only people to have lived to their fullest, 
and the only people to have mastered their mind. 

I will liberate this land. 
I will liberate this country. 
And I will liberate this earth.  

With each of these thoughts, 
The glow the sword increases, 
and the pain inside me fades. 

I feel forces within me. 
I feel spirits rising through. 
I feel the weight of my legs disappear, 
As the last of the skeletal warriors fall to the sword in my hand,
And the king flees in shock fearing what will happen next.

I fall to my hand and knees, 
then weeping. 

The joy I had encountered was relief. 
And around me, the first trees and rivers started flowing. 
And the new world begins. 

And as the leader of the pure bloods reaches for my hand, 
I grab it, 
As we begin a new life, 
of new beginnings, 
and more hope. 


  1. Whoa...that was a really good poem! I admire the repetition you used, as it makes the poem sound dramatic and meaningful. Also, I think that the audio accompaniment made the poem 10x more intense. :D

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