As much as I don't like poetry, I write a lot of it. Here's a sonnet that I had to write for English this past week. And, if it doesn't make sense, it's really not supposed to.
What Has Been Said
From under the black skies the wander’r came
It is said he wanders, but is not free
He came with great purpose and without shame
From beyond the unknown and past the sea
Into dead realms he is said to breathe life
“Look here,” He whispers. “Come out of your mire,”
The lands turn to him, broken down by strife
“Look here; what was a spark is now a fire!”
They say he scatters a blaze with bare hands
Seeking to give life to realms that were lost
He leaves his mark on the fire-kissed lands
Restoring their glory, mindless of cost
He wanders alone, yet is somehow led
But this much I know, it’s what has been said.
