There are always White Knights

There are always White Knights

There are no white knights that slay dragons.

Such was the way of the world, this world, this world of rape and murder, where cynical apathetic children in the midst of hormonal angst dress their flesh in black and leather fetishes, embracing a culture of the night as their solace and their misery as good company, scorning the notion of good and truth in the favour of an easier to accept, relativistic hell. Nothing was true and nothing was right, only you mattered, you did nothing if it did not benefit you, you cared not for your fellow man while you whined about how the headphones of your iPod acted up all the while scorning another man for being rich.


Oh yes, to you there were no white knights, astride firey steeds charging head long into battle with the dragon, no to you the dragon was the world, your world, you accepted it.

You feared the idea of the white knight. So you preached against it, you promoted your relativistic hell dragging down others into your world of hopelessness and despair, and thus did your misery know company. You took down the weak optimists, who only saw beauty in the world but who's souls, in their misguided optimism, bore no armour to the world's evil, no defence, and they fell too. Then you went after those who were good, surrounded them in the darkness so that those too, may either succumb to despair, or are so frightened and insecure in the dark that these good men would be too afraid to stand up, too afraid to become the white knight you so desperately feared.

And lo, one did stand, a little boy of 8 and a half springs, who knew nothing of nothing, and everything about anything, here was a strange thing that was hard to look at, who's parents adored as any parents did, but they too unaware of his light that spilled so freely from him as the cold diamond shine of flowing spring water, in every direction from this unbridled upstart, this spark of godly innocence that burned you so, in your darkness, this good was repulsive to you. for in your hell where anything was true if so you willed it, here was a rock of absolutism, a truth harder then steel, where the torrents of darkness that had swept up the mighty and the weak alike, broke, and was forced apart for the strength of this tiny child.

And this child grew, oh how this child grew! You watched in impotent horror as this tiny soul grew into a monstrous, terrible figure of strength, with armour of silver brilliance forged in the furious hearts of birthing stars, and shone with a light reflecting the cataclysmic creation of the universe and hint of all holiness. This giant soul, this monstrous prince of righteousness, from whose armoured, mountainous shoulders flown an immaculate and impossible cloak, woven in the precious metals of a bygone, and soon to come age of masterful craftsmanship, inlaid with the royal and noble heraldry of the ages that bespoke of the divine house that this great warrior soul kneeled to and called Master. Oh and his helm! Which both at once covered his face yet betrayed nothing of his features! Upon which was winged, and upon these wings were golden feathers from which could be heard the song of songs! The impecible music of the very Heavens!

Oh my yes, you did know fear, oh how afraid you were! Your very impossibility, the very thing you tried oh so very hard to make sure could never be! Was here, in your very midst, and there was nothing you could do. And he now knew you were there, and turned to face you. Your monstrous, deformed heart burst into life, strangled by such divine terror and sublime horror! A life it had never known, hardly ever beating in your rancid decayed innards, it hurt, it hurt so hatefully, in a pain unlike that which you've ever experienced, a pain that could not be enjoyed! Not any masochist, nor sadist, nor evil torturer at all could inflict such a pain! Such a hellsih burning pain that could not be enjoyed, not ever dispelled! A pain that would not drive you to insanity, for this was a pain that did not afford you such a mercy as to be lost in the depths of insanity to escape the pain! Here was judgement! Here was punishment! The evil that you had surrounded yourself with and surrendered yourself too, nothing before this monstrous brilliance that burned and purged your very immortal essence with a truth so profound as to render oblivion! Only Now! Only now did you recognise yourself for what you truely were! You had hid so long within the wings of the dragon that you became that very dragon! And your heart, that had burst with such life, Was the heart of a monster.

And this realisation, this truth, hurt. Hurt almost as much as the truth of the White knight before you.

And thus were you finally slain. And no. Never to return, ever. For the light of this White Knight was a divine, holy light, one that did not banish evil, that did not dispel the darkness. His was a light that killed the darkness, actually killed it, where his soul walked was permanently alight, never to darken. Ever, ever again. Ever more in the light, never to fade. This dragon you had been had been slain, its evil erased. You lay there, in shock, and in such, amazing calm as was impossible to achieve, such, profound peace, such astounding peace! Not bliss, but on the brink of an impossible, white oblivion of paternal affection of something that lay in silence and was seen in a reflection's aegis of Invisibility, such as one would find in the glint of a raindrop shining in the warm smile of a waking sun, climbing over the hills of a quiet countryside to dispell the beautiful and still watch of the pre-morning mist.

And lo, in finality, that indescribable knight in shining Armour stood over you, when you finally awoken from your reverie of absolute peace, see him leaning upon his sword, looking down at you through that implaccable and immaculate, yet humble, helmet of his. Staring intently into your very soul.

He reaches down and a gauntleted hand, whose underside was veiled in quilted velvet and silk, is offered, a hand to help you up, that hand that asked you to grasp it gently.

A hand that you accept.