Timeless toil and a wanderer’s eye,
Always tensed for the eagle’s cry,
Hope and desperation mingled within him,
For these were his companions;
The Traveller’s minions

Traversing valleys, ridges and mountains,
The journey’s culmination finally stood before him.
He raised his eyes high above the tower’s spire,
And wondered momentarily,
What may transpire?

He began his ascent, up the Stairs of Fate
Climbing poignantly upwards, his strides long and great.
The storm clouds rumbled and moved above him,
As the skies churned and spun their heavenly whims.

The Traveller set foot upon the First Landing,
Whereupon he reminisced on his sheltered upbringing
He forsook that life when he began this quest,
Trading solace for a life bereft of rest.

Still he pushed on, as a whirlwind of chaos
Erupted over him, furious and without pause.

As he ascended he thought back to
his erstwhile family,
And pondered what he had done to warrant
such a tragedy.

Still in thought, he alighted the Second Landing,
Whereupon he recalled on their death stranding.
He was a liar, a deceiver and a slanderous snake
And yet it was them who paid the price of Fate.

Leaving these thoughts behind on the landing,
He persevered, yet hoping and believing-
For a second chance at existence, a life worth living
One infused with bliss, honesty and feeling.

The faint wisp of smoke pervaded his senses,
Heralding the imminent wrath of nature’s excesses.

The violent heavens finally erupted
In a godlike burst, of a wildfire disrupted.
A blazing hue of orange and vermillion,
Exploded above, the stars burning in the millions.

Enduring Fury, he approached the Third Landing,
Weary and beaten, but with a soul worth saving.
He eyed the Tower’s end with delight and glee
Born out of the traveller’s most desperate dreams.

The final ascension thus begun with gusto,
His long strides, however, lumbering and slow.
As the climax of his journey awaited beckoning and aglow
His thoughts and expectations rushed out, in a voluptuous flow.

The traveller climbed the last step of the spire,
Moving towards something so rich or so dire.
As he stood atop the Tower of his Fate,
His gaze was cast upon the canvas of his life,
So fueled yet so desolate.

All that was left was all that he lusted
With voracity so powerful, it burned and crusted.
He knelt upon her altar of truth,
Just as he felt a presence,
So enchanting yet so smooth.

There she was, his merciful release
From this life of torment and vengeful deeds.
She stood before him, shining in the light of a thousand stars
As her beauty set aglow the canvas of his soul, his vile farce.

“I have labored through Sorrow, Wanting and Chaos
To embrace your form and revere without pause.
So allow me this, my one true muse,
So I may finally begin a life sans misuse.”

She smiled and held her pale, moonlight arms
Open and beckoning, for an embrace within her charms.
Knowing no greater joy or ecstasy,
The traveller moved forward, relenting and breezy.

In a flash of velvet, her eyes turned cold,
A visage befitting the brave and the bold.
For in the fullness of time, her true form could not be sated,
For she was the one, the true bewitching Mistress of Fate.

Her hands shot out, grabbing the traveller unguarded,
And pushed him readily off the Tower he once ascended.

As his broken and betrayed form plunged down towards death,
He could but muse and reflect, through his last aching breath-
The betrayal of the one who was to be his Redemption,
Was no more than this existence’s justification.

As the limpid waters claimed his body and his soul,
She watched above, smiling and aglow.
For he expected and trusted in the Spirit of Strife,
But the waters will now forever be,
The Tides of his Life.