"To Be The Last" by Jean M Boree

The Last

Born in a time
When fantasy was real
And shadows were forever it seemed
At odds with the light
The last of a dying race
Struggled to survive
Cursed long ago by nature
To live a life of creature and of man
As guardian and saint
To struggle down a path
Of torture and reward

Walking upon the shard remains
Left by those who tread before him
With hair as dark as sin
And eyes as blue as a sea at depth
The tongue of man as sweet
As if coated by sugar and dipped into silver
Speaking the words of an ancient language
Forgotten over time
To ears long since turned deaf

With great beastly paws
To protect the children spawned of nature
Of a mother that was far too busy creating
To linger and protect
Forever seeking
In search for one soul
To end his curse and bring back his dying kind

One who would look beyond the beauty of a man
And the pelt of night
That shields his beastly soul
To care not for what little he had to offer
But still desire to heal
The wounds hidden well with-in
And to break the curse placed upon him

So long ago
To never love
And never know
The gentle grace of a woman
Not frightened by his darker sides
Until a day comes
When one and only one

Will look beyond both man and beast
To see the heart that pleads
For someone who could
And save a dying race.

JMB 7/1/03