A Short Poem on Mithrandir
I love Gandalf above all else that Tolkien created, for many reasons, and a short while ago I wrote a quick little poem that I quite liked so I thought I would share it with you all. Here it is.
In times like these,
when the air is heavy
and the sky grey;
when the Sun is blotted out
by black clouds of smoke and desperation,
and when my heart is buried under immovable debris
cast down from the frozen peaks of solitude and mourning,
I look for the Grey Wanderer,
that he may stir in me only hope.
For in hope all burdens are lifted,
the air becomes clear,
and the Sun shines again.
Tell me what you think!
The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.