THE OUTCAST OF TIME
Time is changing and forever there,
The thing that makes the days pass by,
That sent me here I know not where,
A place where it’s anno 1625.
I’m completely lost in this strange new domain,
A place so different from my own,
Most land is deserted or under kings’ reign,
A place which my ancestors now call home.
Instead of cities with flashing lights,
The only glow is the moon’s pale shine,
Illuminating the country in the darkened nights,
So very different from my own time.
The people stare at me constantly,
As a stranger come to a foreign land,
Like a disease that comes so readily,
One marked by death’s immortal hand.
Through towns and villages I have gone,
Seen knights in their armor fighting foe,
What is their purpose? They’re merely pawns,
Sacrifices for a much bigger goal.
The years have changed my ways and mind,
Having power and glory has elated me,
Memories of my past are left behind,
And my future ahead is all I see.
Centuries have passed in time’s constant flow,
But I have not aged beyond my twentieth year,
And I, now called the Duke of Bordeaux,
Am immortal like the gods, a bringer of fear.
A poem by Fabienne Riccoboni