In poweres hond we fynden sooth ybounde,
Yysubject to his graspe, we ben ywounde,
For sothes arising resteth on poweres myght,
Undepartable, they dauncen thurgh oure lyves.
No power may been withouten his cleyme,
And sooth, in torne, seketh power to procleyme,
A bond togidre that shapeth oure destyne,
This entrechaungyng of strengthes holdeth grete swey.
Thurgh poweres glas, sooth blometh colours bryght,
But poweres wille, mystorned, may take flyght,
Thus sooth bicometh a pawn, a sotil pley,
Ywebbed in poweres rutheles purpos aye.
For man, so longe ybounden in childes wise,
Mot caste awey the ese of thing yknowe,
And brave the path wher clerenesse doth devise,
The heighes of thought wher verray growth doth growe.
No lenger holden by otheres gydyng hond,
We stryven for to graspe the world with eyen clere,
And seken sooth, with resoun as oure brond,
Forsakyng thoughtes born of falshed here.
No lenger bounde by cheynes of ignoraunce,
We stryven for to knowe and seken inner sooth,
To caste awey the bondes of wantoun daunce,
And sheden veyl that cloudeth eyen of trouth.
Trewe fredom blometh whan pitee us gydeth,
And selflessnesse bicometh oure noble estat,
For in the oonhede of oure soules, we meteth,
Embracynge equitee, oure hertes alighte.
The sparke of libertee moot sprede his flaume,
From self to othere, as his brightnesse soreth,
For in the sharynge, trouthe we shul reclayme,
And boundelees fredomes fynde for everemoore.
In cheynes of self allone, no trewe relees,
But in the byndynge bondes of shared entente,
The spirit soreth, embracynge alle in pees,
Wher fredomes flaume uniteth a waityng world.
Sir d’Arcy listened as they howled their song,
A fearsome beast would rise from depths unknown.
The Nian, with teeth both sharp and long,
Would shake the earth and make the mountains groan.
Its scales like iron, gleaming in the night,
Its roar a thunder splitting winter's air.
The villagers would cower at the sight,
As golden eyes brought forth their deepest fear.
When winter winds howl fierce on New Year's Eve,
The fearsome Nian emerged from out its lair,
A beast whose terrors mortals can't conceive,
With lion's head and ox's horn so rare.
From mountain peaks that pierce the tumbling clouds,
a shadow vast dims sun on earth below—
the mighty Peng, whose wings like storm-dark shrouds
span leagues of sky with each fierce overthrow.
Then plunging down toward lakes of midnight blue,
its feathers melt to scales beneath the waves,
a fish profound, whose ancient form breaks through
the depths where lesser creatures find their graves.
In air and water, sovereign of its realm,
it hunts with equal fury, earth and sea,
no prey too swift or strong to overwhelm,
no sanctuary from its majesty.
'Midst mountain peaks where ancient legends dwell,
Sir d'Arcy spied the Peng's vast wings unfold,
like storm clouds gathering, dark tales to tell
of beast that shifts from feather into gold.
From heights sublime it plunged into the mere,
transformed from bird to fish of fearsome size,
the knight observed its scales, now crystal clear,
where moments past had soared through Orient skies.
With sword and shield against this dual threat,
Sir d'Arcy faced the creature's double form,
through lake and peak their epic battle set,
as East met West in more than martial norm.
By moonless night, it rises from its grave,
A corpse still dressed in robes of faded green,
With arms outstretched, it hops—a dance macabre—
Through misty streets where living once had been.
Its pallid face bears death's eternal grin,
While talons sharp as winter's cruellest frost
Seek warmth of life that pulses deep within
The fleeing souls whose paths with its have crossed.
In ancient tales, the elders whispered low
Of how it draws the essence from its prey,
Each victim's force empowering its flow,
Till dawn's first light drives hunger's feast away.
So thus it was with horror in his heart,
Sir d’Arcy did a fatal thrust impart.
Through misted peaks of ancient China’s peaks,
where terror stalks the village paths by night,
Sir d'Arcy ventures forth, a warrior strange
in lands where Eastern mysteries take flight.
Like shadows cast by bamboo in the mist,
a massive form emerges from the grey—
the Wildman of the mountains long dismissed
by those too blind to venture where it lay.
The Yeren's shadow looms, a fearsome beast,
its crimson fur ablaze in mountain snow,
while peasants hide from dusk until the East
is kissed by dawn, afraid to come or go.
With crimson fur and eyes of amber deep,
the creature towers o'er the Western knight,
who draws his blade, though terror makes him weep,
as East meets West in this mysterious sight.
With blade unsheathed beneath the waning moon,
the knight beholds those eyes of amber fire;
two worlds clash fierce—their battle ends too soon,
as steel meets flesh in combat dire.
In ancient woods where shadows dance and sway,
Sir d’Arcy flees, his armour flashing bright,
behind him comes the Taotie in full might,
half human form, half serpent in the fray.
Green scales agleam like jade in morning's ray,
sharp claws that rend the very earth with spite,
fierce whiskers flowing, horns that pierce the light,
and teeth like daggers poised in grim display.
The knight, though brave, feels terror grip his heart,
as thunderous steps betray the beast's pursuit.
with gleaming blade and shield of burnished gold,
Sir d’Arcy stands against the Taotie's might.
this beast of legend, fearsome to behold,
half human form, half serpent in the light,
the monster's hunger knows no end of days;
its gnashing teeth could make the bravest cry.
The knight, unflinching, meets its savage glare,
while serpent tail lashes across the ground,
the clash of worlds—East meets West—laid bare,
as muscle, claw, and steel make thunderous sound.
Two souls entwined in fate's eternal dance:
Man's courage matched with gluttony's advance.
In ancient tales where order meets the void,
There dwells a beast of chaos, formless, blind—
The Hundun, shapeless being unalloyed,
With neither face nor features well-defined.
Like swirling mists before the dawn of time,
It dances through the spaces in-between,
Where light and darkness merge in sacred rhyme,
And what is now was once but yet unseen.
The sages tried to gift it eyes to see,
And carved out portals seven in its frame—
But such enforced conformity would be
Its death; it could not bear to play their game.
Thus once again, Sir Darcy faced this beast,
Yet hesitated as its size increased !!
In ancient mists where mortal paths grow dim,
the Huli Jing, nine tails like flowing flame,
moves silent through the bamboo's swaying limb,
a phantom beauty none can truly tame.
Her amber eyes hold centuries of lore,
each tail a life, a power, legend earned,
she shifts her form from woman to vulpine corps,
a thousand years of wisdom dearly learned.
Men seek her beauty, drawn to peril sweet,
not knowing that her kiss may steal their soul,
where mountain meets the sky, their hearts compete,
for fleeting love that renders men unwhole.
Upon Eastern winds, stories westward came
of nine-tailed fox with fur of gleaming gold;
Sir d'Arcy swore to capture, tame, or hold
this creature of elusive, spectral fame.
His armour glinting 'neath the mountain flame,
the knight tracked pawprints, mystical and old.
through mist-veiled forests where the spirits strolled,
he sought the beast no hunter yet could claim.
At dusk, a flash of tails—a golden blur—
the Huli Jing, with eyes of ancient jade,
regarded him with wisdom beyond years.
their silent gaze—both hunter, hunted, stirred.
Upon a throne of change, the World does sit,
and many are the hands that wish to steer,
to turn their course of history to fame,
and shape the globe into their own clear sphere.
Yet in the mirror's gaze, a truth so stark,
reflects a visage that we oft ignore,
for change begins within the quiet dark,
within ourselves, our very depth of core.
While grand designs and revolutions call,
the subtle shift within does most avow,
to change oneself is to transform thine soul,
for worlds are changed by those who change themselves.
Pure love, the essence that defines the soul,
in ceaseless grace, its beauty doth unfold,
it glimmers bright, a flame that never wanes,
in depths of being, where emotions dwell,
Through love's embrace, the soul finds its repose,
a radiant light within its depths exposed,
a force that moves, transcending time and space,
connecting spirits in a sure embrace.
Within its realm, the virtues find their birth,
compassion, kindness, joy, and peacefulness,
love melds us all, with gentleness and care,
to show us strength, and teaching us to share.