Of caste and strife (V2)

The next morning was bright, and I was sunburned, Back in my life, yet my vessel was spurned. Marooned I stood, deserving the trial, Aura weak, yet I smiled all the while. Where lies the trauma of our waking dreams, Fierce smoke-colored whirlwinds tear the seams! Withdrawn, yet wandering, he must rise, Nightmarish tremors of futures untried. Shields clash bright, embattled and bold, Falling one by one, the brave and the old. Yet he drops not, nor fades from sight, Within this realm between day and night. Comrades drawn, their sightings near, Unfortunate fates still whisper here. Never again shall clarity be so distant, In waking dreamings, the mind’s persistent. As a dwarf I learned of caste and strife, Of alcohol’s poison and the cycle of life. As a being of light, I saw dark minds, Aura and magic, depression intertwined. Of mountain folk I learned the greatest art, How stories bend generations, sway the heart. But most of all, freedom’s mighty power, Grew in me strong, hour by hour. I will pray, I will fast, I will cleanse the soul, Raise my aura beyond the clouds, beyond control! Maker of worlds, hear my plea, Forgive me, guide me, set my spirit free! In time my prayers bore blossom and light, My aura returned, burning bright. Prepared for tasks, ready to fight, The Maker’s blessing restored my might. A passing ship, an ancient horn’s sound, Longship anchored, Vikings all around. I raised my aura, swirling wind and wave, They scrambled, yet I was bold and brave. Fireball above my hand, aura strong, I show my worth, I right the wrong! Demon slayer, hunter of the dark, In wind and water I leave my mark! To Vinland we sailed, a hidden land, Among natives, savages, yet friendly and grand. Not their leader, but healer, sage, and bard, Raising spirits, curing ills, winning regard. No blood was shed, yet trust was earned, Monsters slain, diseases burned. Weeks passed, then onward again, Closer to home, through sun and rain. We reached the mainland, silent and wary, Where religious kings ruled, secret and scary. Masked carts, crates unmarked in secrecy, I knew their tale, their brotherhood history. Templars they were, warriors of God, Pilgrims they served, but their path was odd. I brokered a deal, a quiet accord, They would sail, their treasures ignored. Carry my thoughts, immortalize my pen, Among treasures hidden from mortal men! No word altered, no meaning lost, Their duty bound, regardless the cost! So I set sail, winds bending to my will, My heart renewed, my soul fulfilled. Blessed by Maker, tested by strife, A scholar, a warrior, reborn in life. Through storms, through shadow, through seas unknown, I carve my path, yet I am not alone. For those who sail, and those who dream, Carry my story across wind and stream. Where lies the trauma of our waking dreams, Fierce smoke-colored whirlwinds tear the seams! Withdrawn, yet wandering, he must rise, Nightmarish tremors of futures untried. Shields clash bright, embattled and bold, Falling one by one, the brave and the old. Yet he drops not, nor fades from sight, Within this realm between day and night. Comrades drawn, their sightings near, Unfortunate fates still whisper here. Never again shall clarity be so distant, In waking dreamings, the mind’s persistent. Sunburned, yet shining, my aura alight, A journey begun, yet endless in sight. From exile to favor, from loss to gain, The seeker’s path forever shall remain.