Majesty
By Linda A. Copp

Rumble, Rumble on the road,
footsteps fall, their story's told.
Some will not find their end,
Some will falter Now, and Then,
Again, Again, Again.

They will not see their end.

Rumble, Rumble on the road,
footsteps falling, horses trode,
on cobblestones of old,
I heard their story told.

I saw their horses through the trees,
Heard their panting through the leaves.

Rumble, rumble through the grass,
through the woods and hills they pass,

Cottages of those,
whose hearts and unmarching stepping toes,
will never have to go,
Will never have to know,
The Rumble, Rumble on the road,
or the places they have trode.

Rumble, Rumble on the road,
I've reached its cobblestones of old,
To see her story forever told,
her 'Majesty', unfold.

And Now, I look up to see,
these strangers Passing me,
in broken lines that spoke,
of shattered hearts and fleeting hopes.
Courage, Bravery,
the Warriors passing me.

Rumble, Rumble on the road,
the mystical unfolds,
of Chivalry it told.
And their story's very, very old.

"And we do it all for you,
the Glory of the Story,
Freedom,
FREEDOM from TYRANNY,
And those things which covet and condemn,
the hearts and lives of men.
We few and yet, so, many,
Knights of Old, we will always, Rise Again!"

Their water colors fade . . .

Rumble, Rumble on the road
footsteps falling, places trode.
And their story's very, very old,
Muted Now, what Once was Bold.

And then I saw his horse stumble,
saw him tumble,
to the ground.
That awful, humbling sound.
I rushed and took his hand,
And tried to understand,
How this could come to be,
When this he said to me.

"I sing my song no more,
Spilt my life's blood,
but would spill more.
As I escape to castles high,
to that somewhere in the sky,
Where brave men have gone to rest,
Courage beating in their breast.
For chivalry never dies,
it just marches on and flies,
in the wake of fallen men,
Who will one day Rise Again!

Yes, one day Rise again!

My battles are all done,
my victory has been won."

"But" asked I,
"Is your victory sweet?"

There was no reply.
He had died and gone to sleep.

And Now, the watercolors fade,
muted silent,
Death's been Paid.

Rumble, Rumble on the Road,
the Knights of Now,
the Knights of Old,
Their Story, its been told,
As her 'Majesty', unfolds.
Quests of honor, are of gold.
And their Crusaders,
So, I've been told,
will Rise and Rise Again,
Again, Again, Again,
In the hearts and minds of men,
When her 'Majesty' unfolds,
IN Those Majestic Skies of Old.

By Linda A. Copp
©April 27, 1999