The Battle Of The Sun And The Moon Poem by Bob and Alex Eichen

Behold! The Golden Poet Warrior!
His eyes aflame!
His body bright!
His arms like thunder!
His sword like lightning!
His spirit, indomitable!
His strength, indefatigable!
His mind so quick!
His flesh so beautiful!
His soul so pure!
Chivalric code demands a challenge must be answered no matter how one-sided it may be.
See the ancient Warrior Poet, awaits the coming battle at dawn.
His body bent by age,
His mind dulled by time,
His flesh scarred by a thousand conflicts,
His eyes blurred by ale,
His axe heavy with rust,
His pale hands trembling with cold infirmity,
His heart pounding with unending fear,
His soul hounded by hopelesness,
His spirit crushed by a thousand battles, lost.
The contest is imminent! They meet on the mourning field.
The sun shines hot upon the contestants.
As they near, the ancient one beholds his opponent.
He cannot raise his arms against him.
He gave him life.
He would give his life for him.
Without him, life would become cold and dark.
Without him, despair.
No poem comes to his lips. He concedes defeat.
The battle lost, but victory in the end.
You are my son! You are my sun!
Compared to you, I am as pale as the moon.
And your father loves you more than is in his ability to write!