Dropped without intention, The soulless outcast creation
Left alone – naked and cold –
Luno, with hair of gold,
Skin of bronze and strength of steel,
The one made ideal,
Floats quietly in isolated sea
Watching an eagle fly free,
Admiring the freedom
Swirling like a mocking maelstrom.
The joy of a successful catch,
The anger when talons unlatch,
The love felt for collective kin,
Luno knows he should feel chagrin
As he witnesses true life:
The mixture of mirth and strife.
Waves transport him to shore
From within comes a roar,
The trumpet of a crusade –
Critical of the defect made.
An innate indefinite feeling
Leads to enter the forest burning,
One foot in front of the other,
Compelled toward his father.
This connection unknown
From stitches he had sewn,
Pieces he fit
To the spark he lit –
The father and the son
Long to be one.
And so, Luno searches,
Through forests and marshes,
Over sharp snowy peaks,
To anyone, he speaks:
Following every frivolous lead
With great zeal and speed,
Always to no avail,
Eternally doomed to fail.
Cities expire as years pass,
People break and shatter like glass,
But Luno stays solid.
Death outlasted.
His search had never ceased
Until one day in the east,
Under a strong oak,
A man in a dark cloak,
Accompanied by an eagle bold
With feathers of majestic gold,
Offers a misty solution:
A magnificent talisman –
The Avian Amulet.
A trinket he would not forfeit
Barring a trade.
For his creator, Luno paid,
Perpetual servitude.
Darkness imbued.
