The Steampaladin's Return

As brave helios' steeds retire

behind this ice-choked horizon

tinting grinding floes incarnadrine

A boreal frost rimes my beard and

biting wind recalls fond moments -

the edge of my lady's blade at my nape

keener than any shard of ancient crystal

I might lay before her,

An embarrassment of riches

rooms of gold and precious scintillants

would pale into insignificant trifles

before the luminance of her visage.

Long have I journeyed in her name

beyond the comfortable bounds of latitude

to bring the glory of her word,

the mercy of her hand.

My capital now distant in time and space

Behemoth wading green oceans and frozen steppes

I have traversed them all and gladly

would do so again, should she command

her hand, her gaze, her glory

to be shared, to be revered across empire.

I hasten home, now my love

bringing word that your claim is laid

on these vagrant lands beyond the shores

of great Albion resounding

its hallowed spires of burnished brass,

in purifying tides of steam.

A cleansing tide radiates forth

bringing order and modernity

to the far flung corners of the world

telegraphing the visage of the god-queen

in her majestic splendour.

I crave the winds to bear me with all speed

To Albion, embodying wisdom and virtue

whose beating heart resides in her hallowed and regal breast

which god willing, your champion shall behold

on return to Londones gleaming spires,

its capitals shining streets.

Till then, my queen, my love I remain,

your mortal instrument. Your paladin. Your hero.

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