The final enemy at the end of my journey,
The very last jouster in my third tourney.
Ash and soot, sand made into glass,
The sun eclipsed by a dark, black mass.
I climb the hill onto an ash plain,
Ready myself to be once again slain.
Soul of Cinder, a man of fire,
Somehow familiar, fierce and dire.
We start the duel, I break sweat,
I’m reminded by someone I have met.
The Soul of Cinder made me cry,
Not because I would die and die,
(As opponents go, he was fair,
He took me on, shoulders square.)
It was the music that started to play,
Amidst the black sky and ground of gray.
The piano I heard such a long time ago
Such sweet sadness, gentle and slow,
Gwyn, Lord of Cinder was there once more,
Entered my memories and opened a door.
I forgot where I was, just for a flash,
Was beaten to a pulp, ground into the ash.
No time for nostalgia in the middle of a fight,
Not even when it burns incandescently bright.
Dark Souls, I will always remember,
The search for humanity, for the feeble ember.