“The Monster!” they shout with their torches held high
invading the night with that hoarse, bitter cry,
but shadows, always they will welcome a friend.
So darkness, my troubles, will shortly here mend.
Yet torches are bright, and their hatred burns long;
this search, if they win, they will turn into song:
They’ll sing of the heroes and nobles I slew,
but will that song know the injustice I knew?
Shall I have a verse, or a line—just one word—
remembering tales that have never been heard?
Poem: Unheard Song
Tale Told 