The Fort of Shallow (Poem)

There was once a knight

Which was given the following promise:

"You will evolve beyond your current strength,

And overcome the obstacles in your path.

As long as you beat the one true adversary of the brain,

And a legacy, long after death, shall remain".

His efforts has once gone in vain,

When he saw his former master, fading in pain.

Once again, solitary he became,

Cast to the seas, he and a few followers were,

Of the ruthlessness of the ocean, they had to beware.

A deserted island they have found,

With no one else around.

To eternal exile, are they bound?

"No!" the team leader has thought,

And the need to endure and overcome, the rest he taught.

The boat has been re-constructed, much to their luck,

And the despair they felt in their hearts, was vanished in a single shock.

To all of the islands they went, to recruit as many as possible,

In order to combat a fate, so horrible.

The fleet has been assembled, the forces are ready.

The crew is prepared, the cannons are armed and steady.

The great Fort El-Eal's destruction is the key for liberation,

From those who want to take from us, the shallowness of information.

This is not a single fleet, but one of many, even if few,

That stand in the way, of the materialistic curfew.

Should we wish to fight against the shallowness of content,

This is but one of many websites that should be preserved.

Will books stay forever when you have the internet?

Will universities always be physical when you can study from home?

Will philosophical articles be read when there are much less-mental-investing activities to do?

The written word, you see, are weights the brain lifts.

Should we discard the many legacies, of both old and new,

The intellectual content of the world will be few.

If we wish to preserve both the brains and the words,

Intellectuals are to be spotted, recognized, and, be their deaths far,

Either choose or be appointed successors to preserve their legacy --

Books, websites and whatnot.

Those are the intellectuals that create their legacies,

But only the successors are those who get to preserve them,

Dozens of years minimum, if their lifespan is hopeful.

To prevent the "Fort" from overcoming them all.

Since there is no certainty of a second successor,

The first heir of legacy must be chosen wisely and with caution.

Choosing a backstabbing heir,

Is like ruining a legion of standing domino,

Without little to-no hope,

Of restoration...

EDIT: This poem was heavily inspired by one of my favourite games of all time, Suikoden IV. The antagonistic base the poem metaphorizes, Fort El-Eal, is the final area of said game. In that fort is where you eventually mark the gradual demise of the empire that threatens your hero's homeland.