Have you ever heard a story of the seven sons,
Seven sons, each born on a different night,
A different night, in which the Death has danced on the bridge of light,
In which the Death has danced its deadly dance with Life?
First was the son born on the seventh night,
And he was to be called The embodiment of Light,
For he was granted with a human life,
Sailing down the bridge with all of his father’s might.
Last was the son born on the sixth of nights,
His destiny to be written trough the blood of fights,
For he was also granted with a human life, only…
Instead of sailing him down the bridge of light,
His mother put him down silently, put him down,
Down to the ground, without a sound.
In between them five more came to follow,
Only they were completely hollow.
Without a reason, empty of life,
They were also unable to die.
Thus, they stayed on the bridge of light,
Guarding the doors to the endless night,
And watching their parents dance silently,
Watching their parents as they danced gracefully.
They never knew about the two alone,
Left to fend with the power of their own,
And how they were yet to learn,
And how one of them was to be burnt.
As they had a gift of a human life,
They had to learn how to grow up,
Yearning painfully, for a family, as they, unknowingly,
Watched their parents dance across the sky gracefully.