The wings of the Black Charizard, to be risen up high,
The Pidgey underneath, still struggling to Fly.
And through the Silver Wind, it was foretold,
Or so it goes, our Prophecy of Old,
It wasn't much of a spectacular night,
When from the woods came a startling find.
For a Pokémon who had used its Future Sight,
Had left a devastating Prophecy behind.
"When the moon in the skies rises red,
And The Fear is demanding to be fed,
The Dragonite tamer is vital for your fate,
You must find him before it's too late.
For the Dragonite tamer will surely die,
Unless the wings of the Black Charizard rise up high."
The Elders all panicked, exclaiming in their fear.
"There hasn't been a Black Charizard in nigh 1000 years!"
"Halt," said one, voice steady as Steel,
There's more to the Prophecy, that I feel,
But the Elders of him, did not approve,
They knew Hope, as it were, is a Double-Edge move.
"Still," The voice said: "Don't you haste,
For we have no time on fear to waste.
Give me the Prophecy for once to read,
Maybe I'll find the knowledge we need."
The Elders relented, their heads cast below,
They thought they knew everything there is to know.
But, lo and behold, the stranger's voice,
Said: "We all still have a choice."
"The part about the Charizard is very vague,
And though I may not be a Sage,
I think I have a plan!"
And as soon as he finished speaking, the beginning stages began.
To make a huge kite, all would hold and bewonder.
And all would help, even those of yonder,
Together they'd work, sewing all of the cloth,
Fearing they'd see the day it would all be for naught.
Still all the villagers helped, lending cloth and services,
And the further they got, it lessened their nervousness.
The day of the festival soon draw near,
For they wanted everyone to forget that fear.
The festival was great, people from everywhere coming to feast,
In that aspect, it was a success, to say the least.
But when the Dragonite tamer still hadn't showed up,
The Elders felt their stomachs starting to drop.
But then, deep in the night, when everyone gathered 'round the fire,
One person started a beautiful dance around the pyre.
He drew a lot of attention, with his clothes and ways,
And all of the villagers couldn't help but gaze.
When he finished the dance, he blew on his flute,
And a Dragonite came then, and the person he did salute.
He climbed on top, wanting to go,
When out of the crowd came a resounding: "No!"
"Please, I don't know how much you know of this place,
But sometimes we get Prophecies through strange ways.
One of them foretold your visit, and before you frown,
It's foretold we need your help if we want to save our town."
The Dragonite tamer, climbing off of his friend,
He spoke: "Of course I would like to help a hand.
But what must I do to help you from this fate?
Tell me, man, we must hurry before it's too late."
The villagers all fell silent, no one having thought of this,
They didn't really know what would go amiss.
The Dragonite tamer picked up on their hesitance,
And then spoke, looking up to the moon with a glance.
"When the moon rises Red,
A town will be filled with dread.
Of your arrival they've been foretold,
They knew it through a Prophecy of old.
But what they don't know is, though it isn't false.
It will only come true if you don't heed their calls.
A great feast in your honour they will throw.
And when you arrive there you will know."
The Elders all gasped, and stared up at the moon,
And though it was red, they knew that it'd soon.
Turn back to yellow, its colour fading off.
And they knew they had done enough.
The fear that'd they'd worn like a cloak,
Now fell off, the weightlessness of it to provoke.
Laughter so deep it echoed throughout the lands,
Of the village that once thought they'd get no second chance.
About the moral of this song, you may wonder.
I'll not let you worry any longer.
Just as Hope can be a Double-Edged move,
So can fear be Self-destructing, let this be proof.
I hope you like it. It's a combination of some songs in poetry form.
