Disclaimer: A vaguely FMA-ish poem that WOULD NOT GO AWAY. R+R? Please?
Oh, yeah, and I don't own anything but the verse. So don't even think about it.
BTW - the Title comes from the Greek God Terminus, described as “He Who Walks the Boundries”. Described as being more powerful then Zeus in his own manner, I thought it would be appropriate.
The Gates are out of Midnight's reach
Beyond the edge of Dawn.
Across the Dark we still must hark
And wearily trudge on.
Where nightmares tread, who guards the dead?
And from what do they flee?
For every Gate must have a Lock
And every Lock a Key.
And forged in ice before the Flame
And long before the Word
The ancient Price was swift relayed
And syllables were heard
That crooned of gain. Of desperate hope
Of Rise without the Fall
The shutters barred. The warning passed
But still sang forth the call.
The Lock, you see, is born of Chance
Despair beyond all sight
The love that wrenches soul from chest -
The scream within the night.
The hate that claws behind the eyes
To froth upon the air -
And dream of rest. It forms a Lock
So grasp it if you dare.
You know the price that is the Key
It slumbers in the mind
Of every creature on this earth
And neither cruel nor kind
It is the force that cradles close
And rises in a flood
To slay the soul. To slash the heart -
It all comes down to Blood.
The Gate of Darkness, free of Stars,
The Lock of Desperate Dreams
A Key of Blood. It's come to this
For nothing's as it seems
And ancient Sins at last are free
And ancient Truths will fly
The Night draws close. Remember this:
Above all soars the Sky.