The Legend of the Island Prophet

Swept across the raging seas, buffeted and blown by the howling winds

There sails a ship that’s bound by the stars, under the sky that hides the day

Fighting nature’s warriors they’ll get there at last

Unless stormy seas and winds wash them away - and so they pray

Listen to the story

Day and night for many weeks they’ve bravely battled on

No thought of what they leave behind their children and their home

Surviving storms and shipwreck, wearied bodies stand like stone

Though weakened by their trials, fit to fall

In the king’s elite contingent soldiers lives are not their own

And a soldier in the king’s command stands tall – or not at all

Listen to the story

There’s a prophet man, a hermit, living in his island-mountain home

He possesses all the secrets of the universe unknown

Eternal life, the seeds of everlasting living sown

He can give the king the only power not his own

Only the prophet can immortalize the king

And the only way - it’s written – will bring certain death to him

It’s been fifty days on the open sea

As dawn breaks the fetters of another long dark night

There’s a cry from the high mast, “Land Ahoy!” is heard at long last

As a pinnacle of rugged grey rock breaks the skyline’s endless horizontal flight

Say goodbye the night!

As the sun casts long black shadows at the close of one more day

The ship and royal army are moored safely in the bay

There are beacons up the mountain to the prophet’s summit home

To show the way to climb the rocks and find him

But this king who seeks eternal life must scale the heights alone

Leaving all his soldier crew behind him – he’s got to find him

Listen to the story

As the king climbs up the mountain, there’s a bright flash in the sky

As a crack of thunder echoes and the winds go swirling by

But his mind has one objective, all his efforts have one aim

So defies the stormy trial and remembers why he came

Eternal life, the seeds of everlasting living sown

The prophet gives the king the only power not his own

Only the prophet could immortalize the king

And the only way - it’s written – will bring certain death to him

Dying now, the prophet sighs,

“Don’t think the winds mere trials that you conquered in your quest

Accursed island, demon storm, as I break free now you are born

Those evil winds have blown your ship to sea

Where every man aboard will go down with the rest

Leaving you as years ago it was me,

Until whenever there’s another seeking life’s eternal quest

So look forward to the day when you’ll be free

Until then you’ll live forever, until then you cannot rest