My son, my son,
I don’t know what to say.
Long years traveling together,
discovering the world,
and I’ve shared all I have with you.
My hope was that you would not
have to pay the price I paid for the wisdom,
could climb my shoulders
and leap to the skies
to sing between the stars,
creating choruses unknown.
I don’t know what I could have done differently.
You stand here at the shores of fire,
your skin blacked by the smoke of greed,
rebellion in your eyes.
Perhaps I could not pay the price for you,
keep you from the folly after all.
Perhaps I did not know the way to lead you
after all, in the end,
I am a useless mentor.
The Ring you hold aloft,
glittering with power and promise,
salivating in ripening conquest.
Your eyes shine in its harsh red light,
rejoicing in the unearned reward you claim,
eager to immerse yourself in its power.
A temptation I would not, could not surrender to.
With a cry you claim the Ring,
put it on your finger,
All I feel is ashes, all I taste is ashes,
I turn to leave indifferent
to the stranger I used to love,
surrender to my failure
and resign myself
to searching for another hope,