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
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