So many tales tell stories of efforts so grand,
That there is no way I can believe they were by human hand
But yet they are told, and that’s not something new
It’s by far ancient-old and before me and you
That impossible odds were beaten – dire dragons deceived
That we find ourselves here in the present with little to achieve

For how can we aspire to the unpleasant and conquer dark cries
When the Black Knight was bested and every warrior-king died
In battle, no less, or in truer tests
The courageous at lance point, the romantic in bed
Murdered by blade or love forbade
Romeo was written and will be read for an age

It is no wonder that we settle for lesser than love,
When such tales run in our history
But not through or blood.

© Thomas Grice, 20/06/17

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