The Days of Old

by

Jade Drgne
July 26, 2001

Where majiks are not as they were,
but then again neither is man.
We talk of futures clear and bright.
Yet what is there is truely not light.
Of gloom and doom and things yet decided.
Time turns on her own wheel.
Bringing forth eras repeated and past.
Again and again we see these things flash.
Once was a race of honor and light.
Free of will and full of might.
High of honor and full of valor.
Where the countryside was vast and free.
Expansive and wide.
Thy neighbor fast to barter with hide.
When a call sent forth, help was sure.
Pure of heart, soul of gold...
Integrity enough to break any mold.
The days of old come and gone.
Today we fight each waking dawn.
The countryside is fading to concrete and developement.
Honor and valor found in few and far between.
Help is measured by deeds already done.
Barter traded in for a coin.
Dark of heart, soul of haze...
Integrity found in the chosen few.
Words of gold bound by paper,
held true by a law, not made by nature.
Majiks only have a small bit left.
Shall those too be gone with the passing of time?
Cherrish what you have...
For the days of old have come and gone.