Chosen

You seek to find
 Something within yourself
 That dissipates everything
 You've ever known
 There is no Knowledge
 To be gained without Pain
 And so you've let
 Your Sickness grow
 He was just a Child
 When he faced the Dream
 Uncertain of what be beheld
 It was with Time
 That he began to see
 What his Dream could be
 He grew and gathered
 To him Men of Three
 Of Which one was me
 We set out to alter
 What was deemed to be
 Our Destiny
 Light passed to Night
 And back again too many Times
 Reflections spoke to us of Age
 Our Vision dimmed but his Will was Stone
 As though he still dreamt of the Day
 I needed to believe in me
 But instead I followed he
 Who was meant to serve
 Only as a Guide
 Something I could not see
 I could not understand
 Until he died
 Seasons have passed
 This Winter it was my last
 I feel no Sorrow
 I feel nothing at all
 Life is just a Poem
 That must reach its End
 But I would hear another Verse
 Before I die
 Now that my Days are done
 Spirits let me see
 It was not the Child who was the One
 It was me!!