Disclaimer: No, I don't own FMA or any concepts related to it. I wish I could own one cute, short alchemist *runs away with hands over head when attacked by irate shrimp*. Verse is mine, though - somewhat odd, but I'm proud of it.
The blood-gold stone; too few have bled
To forge the essence of the dead
That springs to life within your eye
Because the sun must chase the sky
And every man who lives must die
Why do you shrink and cry in fright?
It was not even half the night
Before we heard the screech-owl cry.
Because the fire’s only flame
And all the power in a name
Is cradled in a pristine hand
There is a cloak across the land
So all our blessings sink to sand
To scramble, scream for what was lost
You know the price. You know the cost.
The ancient pathways of the damned.
For gold rings true. And even love -
(The soiled fist. The silken glove)
Is but a beast to twist and churn
Too late the twisted prophets learn
The flint strikes true. The spark shall burn.
The shriven horrors of the years
Too late for sighs. Too late for tears.
The hawk must chase the sun, and I
(The stars are fragments) rise above.