The knife was enchanted, With magic, it's granted. Forged in a forge far away, Its strength would never decay. The knife was enchanted, With magic, it’s granted. A spell kept it strong, Through the night, all along. No matter the force or the fight, It stayed unbroken, pure light. A spell kept it strong, Through the night, all along. The magic was old, In the moonlight, it’s bold. The blade held its power, you see, A wonder for you and me. The magic was old, In the moonlight, it’s bold. Rook F8 to H8
So, we choose the third position Those of us with no physician. No sweet return to innocence, No hope of loving Providence. We limp along, flash in and out Of happy, sad, enragéd doubt. Soaring to the highest heights, Striding forth through shadowed nights, Stars, and seeds, and Starseeds all, Our quantum lives flash through the halls Of time and fate and all things grand. Yet here, alone, on Earth we stand. Down Quantum paths we plunge like fools Ignoring all conventional rules, We test the limits, trawl the deep Find new paths - surreal and steep. We honour Truth. We do not hide The evil lurking; pride defied. We perform great feats of wonder Soar so high, show off our plunder. Then we fall, and plunge to earth - With great sorrow and great dearth - an emptiness - the bitter taste Of failure - that precedes rebirth... With silent eye - the watcher's force - That alters each and every course King to E7 onward goes Not ready to turn up his toes
"What is a Gamer?" I muse to myself as I stand 'neath the harvest moon; the orange orb glows in the twilight sky whilst the orange cat sits at my feet and the chill wind blows o're my sharp sorrows and The Gamer finally sleeps. What is a Gamer? What does he do? How does he see the world? How does his brain work? His optic nerves, sparking, His eyes sharply darting, His fingertips, dancing, His keen mind enhancing Each possible quantum Node.... What is it like in his head? So harsh, but so patient, so gentle - oh so kind - he will stick you with his sword and he will kill you from behind. In comes the cleric D6 to E5 His time is upon him He is giving his life
There are many that need loving Many find the way too hard, They need someone who will guide them Take their hand and walk beside them As we journey, all, along. Me, I can not take help; I cannot accept your balm. My life is left behind me It was a life of harm. But, softly from the shadows Quiet voices bid me sit To sit, and write the story To write the mighty story, The timeless, endless, story With the words that keep on ringing And the phrases that are singing of the glory of these days. I am nowhere I am everywhere I am nothing I am all The story floats Around me And the finger Writes so slowly In blood Upon the wall
