The Mystery Mountain

I have a great story that is less told
For not many know it, as its very old
It was one of those journeys to the hills
Where the farmer and the farrier tills
Most were too young to see winters
Or too old to have known the summers
The old priest would have known the land
He dwelled amidst those dusty sands
Blessing he was found that mountain so evil
None came alive from there for the belief of devil
But the time of misery was evident even at home
Failing were all prayers sung at the dome
She was the shield-maiden and treasured her realm
Wouldn’t let her people die or besmirch her diadem
The war was coming swiftly the priest knew well
Incoming he envisioned was the doom of hell
She walked unaided to the road less traveled
For her main weapon was the true love beveled
Went atop the evil mountain and found
The mist and the fumes of past no longer surround
Enlightened future lied at the abyss
She jumped to float into the time they miss
She wouldn’t die, neither would get hurt
Will continue to fall down the hill and blurt
The words of blessings of old priest so pure
She knew that her people would be safe in lure