Foggy and unclear,
Coming from the end of the lake,
A form much feared,
Longed for at the same time.
It was a land of kings,
Soon to be set upon a journey.
Prophecies of the return,
Riches were soon to be true,
Right around the corner of the lake.
The wings of evil took flight,
Called to assemble by the master of darkness.
Dancers delighting the moonlight,
In the cover of darkness.
A dome of brilliant colors,
Flowers spread across the garden.
Walking in the cold wind,
The peasant looked down conquering each step.
A childish dream clutched at heart,
He kept walking into the canyon.