The Fisher King

Where will he flee to this royal petit....
When the earth is scorched, and the trees are torched.
No rivers or rills and the life that they bring.
Where Naiads languished in watery beds
The once serene home of the Fisher King

Bedight in malachite, azure and peach....
Diminutive jewel from sparkling pools
He's much in need of the life-giving springs.
Struggling to survive and remain alive,
In the dwindling world of the Fisher King

On not so many nights does the god of rivers
lay his dewy cheek on the steaming earth.
All around him stratus forming, storming.
The blood of life for tall falls and fountains
In this dying land of the Fisher King

As hot winds blow it breaks his sweet repose.
When Naphelai goes, so goes the cool rains,
and the kith and kin of water and wing.
The dark shade of the king sits silently.
No more is the realm of the Fisher King