A knight's story about a life lesson he learnt at a yearly tournament.
| A KNIGHT TALKS BY THE CAMPFIRE
Its whistles echoes in the empty sky --
This kite which beast and man do watch fly.
I was, as it, once part of a crowd
But a day came -- brought by what I vowed.
I rode beneath a crowd of watchful eyes
And heard my name come in friendly cries.
Fear of defeat froze my yet warm hide
And I was wet -- thoughtful for my pride.
Crowds of oblivious horns did blare, ‘ Now, fight!’
My skills vanished, my hope became light.
I gripped my lance by a slippery palm
And raced ahead neither sure nor calm.
I was sent flying by the painful bang,
And met the dust as the echo rang.
A roar of praise rocked the summer air.
That speared my skills-freezing, shaming fear.
Mugs of cowardice hold one dreg -- it's shame.
One or his fear, who deserves the blame?
A humble man defends just himself,
But a proud knight must defend his shelf.
Days passed and passed till it came once again --
The tournament which we do maintain.
The results changed when I changed my aim;
My right place came into my reclaim.