The Third Child by Stobblehousewhen the pale blood of the mother
runs freely on husky tiles
and the skies turn black and ultramarine
the third child will rise
when the white birds of the sea
coming calling far inland
searching for new minds
and night creatures shuffles
in the day time
when old walls grow stronger
against expectations
and the fields yield a mighty harvest
the third child will arrive
garbed in bright colors
bearing gifts of victory
for his people
but false gifts they are
the people will know him
and yet they will not
when the end of days is felt
and the moon and the sun becomes one
when the fear is greatest
and yet the hope is nascent
when the morning's orb is whiter than gold
when forests are pleading for their hordes
when the fires of man
compete with nature
then the beginning is near
and in the beginning
the real beginning
a hope was created
an eternal hope
the mind saw a glint
in the future
the falsity of time
the mind was the father
and the son
and yet the brother
the mind saw all that none saw
the vision was clear
and a quest was arisen
in the beginning
the end is near
and thus the beginning
the mind is the mind
and has done its work
the child of darkness
will rage and thrash
but all that will be naught
for the light sees all
and the third child is a shadow
cast by the light