by Steven Layne
In the Alentejo, unspoiled by the march of time
The land rolls forever, beneath an azul sky.
Where cork oaks and gum trees, shade groves and vines
beside ancient Tagus, whose flows are sublime.
In the Alentejo, we first stood afore each other
Amidst nature’s rules we were, two very headstrong brothers.
Raised high against the wind, in this timeless meadow
This ancient steed and I, stood brazen in the burrow.
In the Alentejo, a truce was signed, a trust between two castes
A bond, a hold, a connection true, ne’r I’d known for now this date.
In his eye I sensed Elyseum, the real wonder of it all
As if he knew from whence I came, dreams and hopes my gall.
In the Alentejo, the Paladin held me in his gaze
His respite surged, a colossal force, exclaimed upon the day.
As his eye took my measure, to see if I might be the one
A savvy Cavaleira, fearing neither enmity or shun.
In the Alentejo, the scars of old now but streaks of pain
In each a tale of battles, countless clashes all in deign.
Fear not the mighty beast, as it impales upon your sides
For honor is the victor, to those who stand with pride.
In the Alentejo, I felt despair that was his plight
He that liveth this day, while others have felt its smite.
Now his days of battle are, but quiet solemn moments
There still remains a warrior ready, to stand for his atonement.