The Vigil

Four silent squires did gather in the garden

          The press of fate most strong upon their soul.

For by misty dawn their lives would change forever

          By touch of sword on shoulder to enroll.

The dream of knighthood had guided thought and duty

          Through years of practiced service and piety.

Now reality of moment brought fear and cause to ponder

          The warrior path of harsh impeccability.

Their gowns of white like mountain snow gave purity

          To cleansing mind and heart of earthly claim.

Long cloaks of black like starless night gave purpose

          That honored death and victory be the same.

A long sash of blooded red like ocean sunset

          Gave reminder of a price this life might call.

Alone these three hues do bind a knight to honor,

          This black and white and crimson and their will.

Thus do they now stand vigil in cold darkness,

          And shed past life, and tender innocence.

Tomorrow they must give battle on the field

          And brave a cloud of arrows and the lance.

Stand firm my son in control and forbearance

          With discipline and will to win the day.

By morrow’s noon find joy or such deep sorrow

By silence and fast this night can only pray.

In this vigil hear the sounding of the trumpet

          And the serge of hot blood within your veins.

From within find bright courage and awareness

          Of righteous cause to guide your knightly hands.

Kinjal of Moravia