The Face Of The One Now Crowned Poem by Timber Koleden

Out from the gate he rode away,
And still I stand here and him await.
When he turned in armored gold,
His chest emblazed with the tree of old,
Upon his horse sitting, facing his horde,
He was grim and great as an ancient lord.
I saw the age and ancient wisdom in his eyes,
Which are dead and empty now where he lies.
His face was fair like the glowing moon,
Younger than any elf, the hair too;
So golden like beaten flax;
And his voice like lighting when it cracks.
No fear in all the gleaming ranks was seen,
As long as the riders looked upon their king.
To the bleak fray he has ridden;
Many a time has good and evil striven;
But his striving was the greatest,
For I saw when put to the test,
There was no man bolder than he,
And all the men of his country.
He had looked in times of peace and cheer,
Upon his children laughing and his wife dear.
And he knew the same thing
That he had, final breath drawing,
That if there is anything gifted'
From God above,
that is good and lovely,
Over it a banner should be uplifted.
For every man who has lived a blessed life
Will not blanch from the holy strife.
For he who lifts the gilded blade
To fight for innocent child and maid;
And if he dies shall be given in the coming hour'
A white crown upon his brow, a flower,
A crown of majesty to keep
From the Lord of the Asleep.
I have faith that he wears the crown even now,
Although his host has been slain, their blood on the ground.
His horse has fallen, and he lies a-spill,
And all round his men dead and still.
The banners are torn, the helms are dashed,
Where the enemy lies with them crashed.
They are gone but I am still here,
I cannot cry nor shed one tear,
For still in my head
is his face
Now cold and dead.
He has left in me a fire,
To go on and not to tire,
To fight with all my will, until from my own hand,
My weary sword slips, and
I go to before him bow,
Where he sits, heaven's crown upon his brow.