The prisoner

A poem/story i thought of to dedicate to the Dark Tower series by Stephen King. Not the same story exactly but mostly just a dedication to the series because I enjoyed it very much.

"Almost there," races through the gunslinger's mind
as he is in pursuit of the fabled structure, hell his life is entwined
for his quest is that which is nearly infinite
his determination still remains all the more intimate.
And yet for how long it has been, our hero still has decades ahead of him
for his story is one of which tells a tale that is ever so grim.
His quest which seemed to start on that of an unfound, lost coast
it is there a blind prophet to his quest, plays host.
Telling our hero of a place that would make not only his life, but also everyone's complete
and so preached the old man, on this desolate beach, in brutal heat.

"Far off in another land my son," the blind prophet once told
" Is a place which is to great to be real, but exists ever so bold.
It is here on the ends of space and time, there lies a portal
that of which, constructed by more than a mere mortal.
Many have searched, squabbled and wined,
for this portal their lives, away it did grind.
The portal i speak of contains colors our eyes have never seen
it is a thing of true beauty, far greater than any queen.
This portal i speak of is merely a blackened gate
but it is beyond which, that holds existence fate.
For there inside this gate exists a tenacious road,
a path that at the end, a vast structure upon you is bestowed.
It is inside the sturcture that we all seek to obtain,
That is where existence key one shall attain.
The structure within the gate stands tall at the end of the path
overlooking its solemn field with a merciless wrath.
The structure is said to have a mind of its own,
casting it seekers away, to a place unknown.
But only one has found this place of fable
one that has alligned himself within evil's stable.
Atop the castle a balcony does rest
the evil one holds here being nothing but a pest.
For only one can unlock the final door at the top
one who is true, pure and unwilling to stop.
Forever sentenced to chase with determined strife
that of a man bound to this quest his entire life.
Go forth now young man for the place i speak of your name it does call,
do away with evil in your way as well, for good must stand tall."


The man is a rough ragged gunslinger, a hero, trained well in the art of war
many have fallen to his hand, now they lie on deaths shore.
He stands for virtue, good, and everything pure
find he the castle, our nonexistence he shall than cure.
Armed only with two six-shooters slung across his hips
both equally exquisite, down to their polished wooden grips.
He dons clothing that of torn rags and cotton
Along with a full head of grey hair, looks he a gunslinger forgotten.
outstanding the most though, rest below his brow a pair of cold saphire eyes
eyes of a killer, a lover, a hawk whom forever soars the skies.

As his great quest does unfold
his great life in myth among people everywhere is told.
From battles he has fought in to countless people he saved
to when people he loved lost, how wrathfully he behaved.
His combat people spoke who have seen him draw his blazing guns
say he is faster than lightning, piling up bodies by the tons.
Yet people say they've only encountered him once in their time
only because in one direction he continued to climb.
No one knew exactly what over the years he was always looking for
for in all the years of his travels he was silent, in his sleep not even a snore.
As this great quest closes, and reaches its finals pages
a long time has passed since the blind prophet had talked to him, hell its been ages.

As our hero approaches those fabled twilight gates
a lonely wise gatekeeper watches, thinks and waits.
" Another wandering soul seeks salvation within this castles highest tower
most likely seeking to further their own selfish power
Only time will tell if this man will stand true
when his quest reaches its final test, put forth upon evils dew."
Forward then he approaches, like many a years before
lost dear reader you will be, if his words you ignore...

Our hero contioues,exhausted, beaten and almost dead
his only drive, be those beautiful gates ahead.
His lifes one desire to finally reach this place
for it has cost him everything, all of which cannot be replaced.
As he finally sets his eyes upon this place in the distance
his near dead pace quickens, showing all of his persisance.
As he pushes forward, closer in to view those rare gates dim
massive, black as midnight, in his ears producing an angelic hymn.
At first he beleives he is dreaming, for it is to to good to be true
but alas he has actually found it, this his heart already knew.
When finally close enough his hands rest upon those sinster black bars
from the other side an old man approaches, his eyes shining bright as stars.

"what is your intent of being here traveler?" the old man did ask
his voice was weary, old, and contained a chilling amount of rasp.
Dried and hoarse, was our hero's voice as he replied
"To save all within existance, and to fulfill dreams of those that have died."
"How have you learned of this place traveler? very rare know this place exist?"
The gunslinger questioned in his own mind "why does this old man proceed to persist?"
" I have no time for this old man, my bussiness has been stated
now will you peacefully let me in? Or will trouble be created?"
The old mans emotionless expression did not change, 
he only spoke then of a warning, which to the gunslinger sounded quite strange.
"Through these gates you may pass dear traveler, but this warning you must heed
atop the structure behind me you must follow that of the right creed.
For if not then your vast quest to save existance will be for that of nil
you must look inside yourself and choose that for mankinds will.
Many a times i have given this important ignored speech
and many a times still, the traveler is thrown back to his beggining beach.
So press on if you will dear traveler for your life is your decision
I just hope it is one which will bring rise to mankinds future envision."
The final words of the old grey bearded man echoed in the gunslinger's ears
And like magic he dissappeared, but not before the hero noticed his face covered in tears.
The gates then swung open letting the gunslinger pass by
and it was at this moment he then felt himself begginning to cry.
For his quest was now over his life finally complete
it was a challenge to maintain his balance, hard to keep his feet

Pressed on did the gunslinger, his legs stiff as boards
treading on a dusty path, ready for his life's rewards.
On his path his cold eyes did wander
and yet his mind couldn't help but ponder.
" This place os magic is exactly how i had dreamed about so much
down to every last detail, even the path my boots do touch.
Either side of me lay endless fields of flowers oh so rare
all colors they are, each vibrant as a little flare."

For hours the gunslinger tread on the winding dusty path
then in his view came the castle know to wield great wrath.
As he moved forward toward the breathtaking castle
weep his eyes did, thinking upon his life's hassle.
Running now the gunslinger was, showing the littlest of grace.
His body showing a wobble, while tears streamed down his face.
Through watered eyes he stared the great castle up and down
it glimmered in the fantastic sunlight, better than any kings crown.
The great castle forged from pure gold it was
every aspect and angle, deserving man's applause.
Yet the thing the gunslinger took in the most
was how high the tallest tower in the center did boast.
In front of the gold palace stood a massive door
made from the darkest oak, not found in any store.
leading to the door a gold staircase does rise
walk up these the gunslinger, his quest then demise.

The gunslinger then limped up those golden stairs
his dreams coming true, god answering his prayers.
each step he did ascend his heart skipped a beat
for the excitment coarsed his veins, feeling ever so sweet.
As he finally reached the great door of wood
a puddle of tears where his worn body now stood.
As his gnarled aged hand grasped the door's iron grips
He felt weak, his guns hanging heavy down on his hips.
With ease the great door swung open from its massive frame
feeling ever so close his heart now feeling aflame.
walked through the doorway the gunslinger did
from behind him the door then slammed shut, louder then a coffin's lid.

The entrance to the great place was a long massive hall
big enough to fit hundreds, large enough to throw a grand ball.
The inside of the gold castle, somehow built ou of glimmering marbled stone,
and the vast hall being empty, the gunslinger now felt small and alone.
As the gunslinger walked down those shining marbled walls,
on either side no corridors, no other grand halls.
The only other passage out of the great hall lay straight ahead,
loud the gunslinger's footsteps echoed, as to the open frame he then tread.
when he finally reached the man sized frame,
A spiraling staircase, the castle then became.
The winding steps the gunslinger began to ascend,
bringing his infinite quest, closer to it's climatic end.

The determined gunslinger climbed the spiraling tower
It seemed to rise for miles, taking him many hour.
The only thing lighting this tower so tall
were window frames every few minutes, that were ever so small.
Every time one of these the gunslinger passed
his eyes would overlook that field so vast.
His mind then reflected on his many good acts,
and thought if another would ever follow his tracks.
For he has done the world so much good, no one can compare
its a shame no one will take over his acts of good, he will have no heir.

Worn, tired, hand sliding on the curved wall
he finally reached a door, ending the bending hall.
The door being wood and plain bearing only a single metal knob
his hand grasped the handle, faster his heart did throb.
With a turn and a push, the door opened wide 
exposing himself, to a balcony outside.
Now on a walkway he stood, miles in the sky
leading to a door, on another tower the same high.
But on the end of the walkway, stood a figure clad in a cloak of red,
the figure be a tall man, looking gaunt and nearly dead.
The gunslinger's hand moved slowly for his finely polished grips
the wood ones on the butt of his guns, slung low on his hips.
"Wait," the man in crimson managed to command
the gunslinger did, but kept ready his deadly hand.

"Behind me waits the door your life does obsess
but further your quest, it shall never progress.
Leave this place now for now this is where the choice is tough
let someone else carry this burden for existence you've done enough.
For your life is nothing but a wheel, shaped without an end
completing differant tasks, but always on the same trend.
So strike me down if you will, like many times before
for your life has been doing away with evil, and nothing more."

The gunslinger knew, this man had to be a sort of sage,
one who can produce magic, when battle is engaged.
So drew his guns, the gunslinger did fast,
pulling both hammers back, ready for the deadly blast.
The gunslinger is not just fast, but accurate as well,
deadly precision hes proven, by all the sinners hes sent to hell.
As both hammers drop, and ignite two primers,
they go off in perfect unison, as if they were on timers.
But the sage was to quick and vanished in a whisp of smoke,
and appeared behind him, along with his red cloak.
The man in crimson then uttered words of some evil
which sent the gunslingers body in a violent upheavel.
down the walkway he flew towards his final goal,
hitting the path hard, like a tossed sack of coal.
Although like a fool he looked for the moment at hand,
the sage had done exactly what the gunslinger had planned.
For now he had the man in red well off guard
his next act of gunfire, not even the slightest of hard.
The scarlet man had nowhere to go, nowhere to vanish.
soon like many others, the gunslinger this man will banish.
For now pointed a gun on the path north and south,
before the crimson man could even open his mouth.
The rest of their shots, atop the castle they rang,
echoing through the skies, a beutiful song they sang.
As too much lead flew both ways on the narrow path,
the crimson man couldn't avoid the bullets wrath.
emptying the chambers, the cylinders spun fast.
the life of the scarlet man, ended on the final blast.
To his knees the scarlet sage then fell
blood pouring out his body like a well.
The gunslingers saphire eyes gazed upon his rightous kill
and as he looked, felt that old familar thrill.
The feeling of power, ending evil by a quick hand,
being able to look death in the face, and have your life still stand.

After the gunslinger confirmed the death of the scarlet man
towards the final door on that high path his walk began.
And as he moved on the the walkway to end his quest,
it finally hit home, that his quests end he'd been blessed.
And on this stretch that lies so unbelievbly high in the sky
Once again he found himself beginning to cry.
Out of sheer happiness his lifes obsession is about to cease,
the times hes been tested, his soul soon to be released.
Realesed from this chain that has bound his life,
never being able to stop, not allowed to have a child and a wife.
For sick is he, of carrying the world's problems on his back
saving this and saving that, keeping the world from entering black.
"Still," went through the gunslingers head as he got close to the final door
"who will watch over this world, now that i won't be around anymore?"

In front of the door, the gunslinger now stands,
he reaches for the golden knob, with trembling hands.
His face soaked from the tears, from which his eyes now spill
the high winds behind him blew, sending down his spine an awkward chill
As he gives the knob an oh so gentle twist
the metal turns hot beneath his cold fists.
For inside the door his blue eyes a bright light does blind
This fabled hero, horrified for remebered has his mind.

"No, no please no!" The gunslinger screams
and commanding back to him, the castle seems.
"To me your life is bound gunslinger, for eternity and beyond.
Forever you will come back to me, a neverending bond.
Condemned your soul is, to be the watchful and protector
of this universe's existance, a constant spectre.
Until you can learn to choose your own way
to me your life wil be lead astray.
Saving lives and worlds throughout the ages
your memory will be a book with torn out pages.
back to the beginning beach your soul is cast
you are my servant of good, created without a past."

The gunslingers face then hit the beach's sand,
weeping, crying, his mind not able to understand
" how many times have i been there? too many to count
how many lives must i save? how many time that tower must i mount?"

Around him the gunslinger eyes looked,
while his body under all his clothes in the heat cooked.
As he looked for an answer to all these questions
he looked around for anybody to give him suggestions.
And as the old gunslinger got up to his feet,
memories of the castle, the final tower from his body did excrete.
The will of the gunslinger, the tower always has controlled,
being able to erase his memory, his mind being able to mold.
For as the gunslinger now looks across that desolate beach,
The color of memory from his mind now suffers from the towers bleach.
A drifter now pacing down the lonley sandy shore,
a new world he walks through, a new place he does explore.
His creation does not exist, his body on this beach the tower did pour,
forever remaining the towers prisoner to serve good, it's own w***e.
And everytime the gunslinger restarts his infinite quest,
the tower sends him a phantom, a blind prophet he his blessed.
The blind prophet telling him of a great structure that holds all of existence
a place that requires a pure soul, and a spirit of persistance.
and the gunslinger time after time eats the blind phantom's lie's
believing by carrying the weight of the world, rewarded with the ultimate prize.
And every time still he never heeds the scarlet sage's warning,
for he never dies, his death never need mourning.
But alas the call of the final door is too strong
it hypnotizes the gunslinger, like a beautiful song.
Spinning like a wheel the gunslingers life does wind,
"Almost there," Races through the gunslinger's mind.

Author's Note

please tell me what you think