Death of the Bannerman

A cycle of poems «I Trust Tempered Steel»

The raven croaked a mournful sound, the wind howled through the keep
The banner hung, half-mast unbound, a silence cold and deep.
No trumpet called, no hero's cheer, just whispers on the stone
Our Bannerman, held ever dear, was gone, and all alone.

The Lion sleeps, the Wolf lies still, the Dragon takes no flight
The Stag is hunted on the hill, consumed by endless night.
The banner falls, the colours fade, a legend turned to dust
A noble heart, in shadows laid, betraying our old trust.

He stood against the storm of steel, a shield for all the weak
His courage burned, a truth to feel, the words he used to speak
Of duty, honour, loyalty, a vow he held so tight
But even strength must bend and die, before the endless night.

The Lion sleeps, the Wolf lies still, the Dragon takes no flight
The Stag is hunted on the hill, consumed by endless night.
The banner falls, the colours fade, a legend turned to dust
A noble heart, in shadows laid, betraying our old trust.

The rain it falls upon the land, a tear for every soul
Who felt the strength within his hand, and reached for a better goal.
Who will now lead us through the fray? Who'll bear the standard high?
Our hope has dimmed, our guiding ray, has vanished from the sky.

The Lion sleeps, the Wolf lies still, the Dragon takes no flight
The Stag is hunted on the hill, consumed by endless night.
The banner falls, the colours fade, a legend turned to dust
A noble heart, in shadows laid, betraying our old trust.

Though grief may hold us in its sway, we cannot long despair
For in his life, he showed the way, a legacy to share.
We raise the banner, though it bleeds, and whisper his name loud
From his brave heart, a new hope seeds, rising from the shroud.
The Bannerman is gone, but not his name, forever sung aloud.