An endless ride, a burst of pride,
In circles round I speak.
One must hold fact, remain intact,
Refining his technique.
Why can't it be for I to see
Beyond this great pretence?
One won't condemn or condescend,
it makes not any sense.
Perhaps someday, I hope and pray,
Each heart may hold a place;
Where life of sort can not be bought
And bitterness has no taste.
I will not yield my sword and shield,
Yes, I shall have it all.
Fate awaits my bid to sate,
This quest in Haggard's Halls.
Ref: Haggard's Halls ( XIV )
