The Princess in the Mirror

Dear friends,

The following work is a story expressed in poetic rhymes,

a full poetic adventure that I hope you’ll enjoy. If you find it interesting, please leave a comment.

The princess in the mirror

The fire blazes on the hills, I see the dreaded mountain

of souls and infants waiting still to quench their thirst for light,

to drink in joy and infinite abundance from the fountain,

yet mighty Guardian horrible unyielding serves the night.

So filled with sin, unholy fiend demonic, dark and vile

for centuries has willingly served king of death most cruel

and he with cunning trickery, so sinister and guile

is terrifying spirits pure enforcing shadows’ rule.

As long as in his mirror haze and mist the fortress hides,

where ancient princess godly fair of whispering reflections,

in state of trance and drunkenness eternal, takes no sides,

there will not be resistance true for many generations.

I am a secret wanderer in this forsaken land,

the legendary fighter still of temporal creation,

and miracles I can perform with sword and shield in hand.

Some call me time, and I resist infernal tribulation.

I wear my armor and my cloak; I head towards the tower.

My mother, fate, ordained that I should die in great remorse,

but I resist her endless might, and I defy her power

and, as a mortal among men, conceal my inner force.

The path before me treacherous with hardship and with trial

and many brigands in the wild are there with sword and bow,

I taste a drop of essence sweet that shimmers in my vial

and then, unseen by mortal eyes, I hide from every foe.

I wander off in wilderness; I see the ancient beast

that lays there as made of stone in slumber deep, in peace.

For centuries this dragon great, surrounded by the mist,

reminds us of forgotten worlds and times of love and bliss.

Yet suddenly, the sound of storm and tempest breaks the silence,

the fiery hail of goddess dark makes heart and body shudder,

the whole of nature now erupts with boundless rage and violence,

the land before me disappears, I see the sacred ladder.

A vision of such magnitude I witness, revelation,

I see myself ascending high to kingdom pure divine,

this gift presented now of life in brightness and elation

is intervention, sign of grace, a privilege of mine.

The Father of immensities above the world material

His arms he opens to accept His Son, the prince of ages.

I am the spirit of all time, incarnate yet ethereal,

unknown to prophets, sorcerers, to learned scribes, and sages.

And still before His might supreme as drop in mighty river

I feel so insignificant. In awe and fear, I cower

before the brightness of the One, the Maker, dread and shiver,

for, in His presence heavenly, I feel His endless power.

His voice I hear as thunder great, His Light eternal burning

discourages the spark of hope to sense the secret meaning,

immensely potent still in me remains the holy yearning

to comprehend infinity from earth’s and world’s beginning.

The vision blurs, I find myself in a deserted hovel,

an elderly repulsive crone the boiling soup is stirring

with trembling hands, she comes to me this ugly hag to grovel

repulsive is her face and form, her shrieky voice I’m hearing.

“Oh sir, your grace, I bow to you. I mean no disrespect.

I saw you lying on the ground, a nobleman, a knight,

and brought you here to treat your wounds, your body to inspect,

for I’m a healer by trade, and it was past midnight.”

Her story was not credible; I felt some disbelief,

it was impossible for me to masquerade suspicion.

The warmth of fire, all the same, was source of great relief,

I felt my deep priority was to complete my mission.

Yet, as I try to lift myself to leave this wicked place,

the strangest vines climb up to me to hinder me from leaving.

The crone before me is transformed. Her old and ugly face

is that of a demonic fiend, a specter dark, deceiving.

The hut around me is transformed into a fiery chamber,

the magma flows of molten stone in rivers dark and hellish,

the demon claws and teeth reveals, his eyes as burning ember,

attacks to take my godly life, with glee to see me perish.

I finally succumb and show my hidden holy power,

a force of greatness, time itself within a mortal body,

and, even if this evil force so dark appears and dour,

compared with me, the son of fate immortal, is nobody.

With giant force, I break the vines; I raise my blade eternal.

The demon from the pit of hell, now fearful, scared, and cautious,

can see the trap he set himself misled by the external

and begs for mercy now; indeed, this coward most atrocious.

The dreaded fire of his breath cannot my strength diminish.

I am the lord of centuries, divine, and can defend

with force of all eternity, I finally can finish

the reign of darkness on this land, the wound of nature mend.

I see this shadow dissolve before my gaze in terror;

the hellish warrior now succumbs, for I have heaven’s favor.

The price for arrogance is steep for his misguided error,

and I, triumphant, full of pride, in joy this moment savor.

Yet, even so, I still remain in land of dead and imps,

in need of guidance inertly, if I’m to find the way.

The battle drained my inner strength, exhausted are my limbs,

and I’m in need of keeping foes and enemies at bay.

So I decide to seek the aid of nature’s spirit great,

I need a place of deep repose, regain my magic safely.

My elder sibling can appear around me to create

a dome protective to enclose and guard my presence earthly.

I close my eyes, and she appears, my sister loved and chaste,

in me, as always, nature lives, preserving our connection,

my sister wondrous mystical that comes to me in haste,

as always looking after me to offer me protection.

The lyre of the elements I hear, relieved and grateful,

obedient servants to her rule, harmonious and meek,

her form surrounded by the light, she comes as always faithful,

her hair so long as water pure that flows in crystal creek.

The angels of the elements an armor form around me,

and I can safely sleep in peace, my cosmic force replenish.

How great this energy I sense that lovingly surrounds me

and helps me claim my purity, a dove without a blemish!

For me exists no temporal and linear limitation,

I can command the centuries to pass away as seconds,

the moments of this world to freeze, I rule the fourth dimension,

and then awake to body new, complete the task that beckons.

When I awake, I find I have another form acquired,

a graceful maiden’s outer shape with glorious attire,

and even if my beauty lords and serfs have so admired,

upon my steed as white as snow I rule a land entire.

I can with ease reclaim the throne usurped by ancient foes

and reinstate the proper rule, establish novel order,

my heart, the godly element in me, now fully knows

there is for me no barrier, no hindrance, and no border.

So now I have assembled men and formed a proper army,

a sort of saintly amazon I lead them with my might,

I gallop onward merciless, and no one can withstand me,

I proudly see my warriors determined for the fight.

The king of death, my enemy, his influence enhancing

enclosed by walls of stone so tall, indeed imposing, massive,

the ruler of the dead so feared can see my form entrancing

and, though his minions cannot feel, seem somewhat weak and passive.

The giants on the battlements, the icy northern trolls

inform with sounding trumpets all the skeletons and shadows:

“A shift of power will take place; the King of death now falls,

as evil prophet’s mystic word for ages now foreshadows.”

I listen now to the unborn, the souls of no redemption,

the haunted spirits of those slain as infants in the womb.

They cry and holler endlessly. Forbidden is ascension

to heaven of the little ones that crave release from doom.

Their mothers have rejected them, destroyed the life they gave,

this bloody act so murderous damnation does beget.

The mourning of those innocents devoid of bed and grave

will echo eerily at night, when king of light has set.

My weapons and my catapults will deal their greatest blow,

my enemies cannot confront my mighty arms in battle,

the gods and mortals of this world will tremble when I show

my force defeating death itself, its champions slay as cattle.

The queen beyond the mirror still, in dreams of past and morrow,

is trapped beyond the zone of life, in limbo lost she wanders.

Yet, when I raise her from the depths of slumber and her sorrow,

the universe will glorify the hidden force of wonders.

The enemy has been prepared to fight us, full of rage.

His wrath and hatred he emits, his influence expands,

he feeds on entities and souls; this most horrific mage

his most unholy presence spreads throughout the northern lands.

At night an elderly midwife gets past my guards to find me,

although my faithful servants do protect me with all caution.

She’s strange, yet somewhat likable I hear her voice behind me,

as she reveals immediately where lies her true devotion.

She serves the princess all her life regardless of the barrier,

the magic mirror that restrains, holds back her magic essence,

for, even in her sleep, she’s there, this ancient holly carrier

and keeper of the elements’ most sacred deep quintessence.

She drifts in sea so infinite of whispering reflections,

of ages past and eras great, this mythic queen of legend.

The king of death has kept her there, because her interventions

would put in jeopardy his reign, dominion dark and present.

The woman tells me of a door that leads inside the castle,

concealed by crystal waterfall in sacred grove well hidden.

She wants to lead me there and fast to see without a hassle

my foes’ most dreaded weapon yet, by magic made, forbidden.

The king of death, unholy ghoul the darkness representing,

a necromancer kept in life defiling his forefathers,

intending to preserve himself by use of the unending

and darkest witchcraft known to him, consuming life of others.

The taste of death has bitterness, and sweet is life and light,

the trials one is facing here unable to destroy them.

Yet, in his desperation deep, in pain he finds delight,

for nothing chaste in him remains, in order to enjoy them.

Yet sacred spirits now awake of dormant times and ages

and rise to claim their previous place, their wings they spread immortal,

and free from all oblivion they fly from mental cages

to cross in human shape and form the cosmic holy portal.

I follow the old woman there the secret to discover,

I have my sword and bow in place as warrior, maiden-queen,

and in the fortress infiltrate in order to uncover

the evil ultimate in there, perdition, damning sin.

Behind the waterfall indeed the entrance I have found,

in darkest caves I wander now until we reach a ladder,

I climb above and see the eyes as embers of a hound,

and, though immortal life I have, I feel afraid and shudder.

Yet, when this horrid monster sees the woman old and calm,

it seems as if a magic spell has soothed and made it peaceful.

“My old medallion tames all things,” she says, and in her palm

I see a trinket, charm of sorts, that makes me feel so blissful.

She hands to me her magic charm, and then she disappears,

and now I have to infiltrate my enemy’s own hall.

My eyes can feel the energy; I hear with mortal ears

the voices’ of eternity unyielding ancient call.

And forth I go to face at last my nemesis, my foe

the adversary to defeat, to free the holy maiden;

the wounds of the unborn to mend, to listen to their woe,

and with compassion, free of yoke, to liberate the laden.

I walk as ruler in the fort, the dark and evil tower,

for now I feel my destiny has naught to do with arms.

The force of weapons useless, the death so dark and dour

I’ll humble with the force of life and cure the ones he harms.

I reach the hall where he has stayed for ages, safely guarded,

yet now it seems defenseless with no one at the gate.

Defiant now, I feel renewed, by Godly might rewarded,

as I am granted holy right all torment to negate.

I stand before him fearlessly, the tyrant dark of ages.

The Lord of Death is standing there in awe and awful dread.

The storm outside I sense and wrath divine in me now rages,

and with a blow so fierce and true I cut his life as thread.

I sever his existence now. How frail it was indeed!

His head is lying there awake, unholy venom spitting.

He knows he’s lost, yet even now, as final evil deed,

remains a force of hideousness. How wicked and how fitting!

The mirror there expecting me to offer liberation,

to summon lady of a world long absent yet desired,

the haze inside is finally dissolved by pure intention,

the triumph of all life revered is due to be admired.

And as I walk to free the dame of whispers and reflections

I see a form that walks to me, a graceful nymph most slender.

This figure wondrous, mystical, and keeper of perfections

is walking in the magic mist to meet her strange defender.

She walks to me to touch my hand; I wait for her to speak,

express through words of gratitude her deep and true devotion.

I see she has my features now, I see myself so meek,

confessing that the world I saved was nothing but a notion.

A dream so insubstantial, a meaningless reflection.

The truth is there for me so bright, the rule of time a jest,

for true reality is NOW, a timeless conception,

that renders dreams alive and real for me to rest and nest.

Rejecting linearity as vision most enchanting

I follow her; we are as one, eternity is timeless.

The songs of angels glorify through saintly holy chanting

the first condition of all things, within a moment boundless.

The End