God's Heirloom

In the beginning, my empire was forged from the blood of a life lived in sacrifice.  I walked upon this world with a body made of fortitude supported by a mind incapable of domination.  My way was one of passion, the heat of a divine engine fueled by loyalty.  The music inside me called  to words which were often beautiful and sometimes evoking.  My nights were spent in the contemplation of a world that should have been.  My days were filled with the dreams of a life I was meant to live.  Time sped onward and the sacrifice took hold.  Forced by tyranny to watch a sacred love die in my arms, her gift to me destroyed and gone.  This, from the rage I held for my failure to save, stole from me the last link of youth in me.  Preceding this came the heartbreak of a heroes fall.  A man far greater then I losing his life in a shocking act of a horrible god.  Fatherless first then fatherhood revoked I began a path that led to so much more.  For a time, I was honored.  For that time, I was sorrowed for the losses gained.  Then sacrifice began again.  Betrayed by everyone; I left.  I sought to quell a passion turned rage.  I sought death for honor as I had no notion of the obligation my last hero would bestow.

           

            Alas I survived.  I returned from service to a home in ruin.  Everything I once cherished had fulfilled its promise of betrayal.  The heirlooms of heroes passed were desecrated, the material of my achievements destroyed, and the intention of righteousness had faded from the hearts of those who should have held it tighter.

 

            Again time sped on and sacrifice took hold.  I aged and lived on though I had little left to live for.  My service cut short, my faith in ashes.  Now I live in world which keeps me alone.  I have hundreds surrounding me and yet I stand solitary, betrayed by all I loved and rejected by those I protected.  Haunted by my failure to defend a sacred gift, by the nightmares of living in the wake of loss for every man I cherished like gods.  Fatherless.  Passionless.  Childless.  Full of obligation to those who have left me behind.

 

In the end, my only kingdom is this throne of sand. So now I am the popper, the sacrifice of stone and blood with nothing to show for a world lived in pain.  I am without course and without hope;  destined to redefine a legacy that I have lost the strength to endure.