I knew a silver eyed gladiator trapped in a soulless body—
And a heathen running from his blasphemous entity.
Both running out of their aura of mortality;
Driven to the verge of blind insanity.
They fell in love;
and the one with the sword asked for a shield.
The heathen dissolved into silver moonlight—
One, for the gladiator to wield.
But the corrupted innocence of the moonlight shield
blinded the Gladiator, he wanted to yield.
The heathen's soul, scattered to pieces,
Cried out in agony, "redeem my vices."
His fragments spoke, the Gladiator wept.
A lifetime of bloodshed, and it still left him inept.
"Let my blood be your cape, my tears be your armour."
The Gladiator saw hope in the sins he were to devour.
"Lend me your sins, my moonlight, take my body;
control me from bone to bone, take over my custody."
The Heathen pondered, he laughed in anguish.
"Are you certain it's your quiddity that you'll relinquish?"
The Gladiator assured, "I have nothing else to spare,
and I have suffered much, my inseparable nonesuch.
So take my entity, my love, don't mourn much."
He whispered the latter part and sighed in disdain.
His shield embraced him and said, "my love, remain."
The Gladiator, his soul emerged and shuddered.
Along with a momentary flash of eternity, he lumbered.
The Gladiator, too out of mind, to form a sentence,
noticed that his shield was long gone but his lingering essence
left him longing for his love, writhing in loss, wailing in misery.
A sacrifice had been made, despite his payment being derisory.
A turmoil of emotions overwhelmed the wielder—
munificent was his shield, his love, his selfless shelter.
Now all alone, he walked these lands in his eternal body.
In an empty world his pain was like the most pleasant melody.
Aeons passed—
Still in agony, he bled; his soul remained insensate.
For another eternity he swam and blamed his own fate.
