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In moonlight stands the golden
prince,
Turned silver in its light.
Eyes closed, his heart crying the name
Of one true silver in might.
No answer returns to him,
No warmth of love unbroken.
She who was lost by his own hand
Leaves only the chill of unspoken.
It is not death he feels, but
gone.
Abandoned to his fate
As he once abandoned her, careless.
The prince has lost his mate.
When joy and love his hand did
grasp,
The desire his heart once asked,
The fool turned eyes to things more known,
To papers and meetings and tasks.
She stayed, the maid, though
wings and scales
Did beckon her fly to home.
Her heart belonged to elf, not dragon,
Were she not so oft left alone.
Those wings and scales, her true
nature,
The prince would never accept.
She kissed his inattentive hand,
Became herself, and left.
Gone was the elfmaid Silvara
forever,
The dragon Dargent flew.
The prince lifted his eyes from his work
And in that instant he knew.
Too late did he begin his
search
For the lost he'd never found.
Too late did he become aware
He loved her beyond mortal bounds.
Now decades gone, his search
continues,
Though faith, not hope, sustains him.
Yet she whose heart was once steadfast
Cares not of the love that chains him.
Through torture and madness,
danger and pain,
The golden prince searches on.
His punishment for foolish pride
That he cannot accept his dragon is gone.
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