like the blizzard riding in low
pride sneaks, then engulfs
masquerading as a valiant virgin
when yet he was a young pup, he put
his nose to the air, and it was
fear that bristled his fur,
his eyes, yet then, were alive
in this great valley of sublimity
it's hard to tell the motive
behind the muscle we pin
the badge honour to
and it's hard to tell victory
from sport, rage from justice
as the weak grow strong
to subdue the weakest
he grew to be great
his greatness to be feared
the fear to be admired
and the first virgin snow, fell
the hills, he roamed as champion
while companions took solace
in his shadow bleeding
the life from his eyes
and i thank God
for the murder in the night
that his blinded pride
could not shield
for while he was off telling tales
of brave battles to the
plebeian's worthless applause
his greatest jewel was taken
and in the sorrow of his shame
in the last dim light of hope
that love might conquer pride
there, in the strength of brokenness
the life returned to his eyes
and his crown, he layed down
forever
