"Can there be angels?" Kratos asks
upon Izoold's shore.
If so then sure they would have come
to stop this horrid war.
But humans die, and half-elves cry
for help that does not show,
While elves stay safe 'mongst copse and glen
and dwarves simply lie low.
"I may have once believed in them
those messengers of lore
But after all this death and strife
I can believe no more."
"Can there be angels?" ponders he
as he surveys the land.
From Derris-Kharlan both the worlds
does Cruxis now command.
A tiny Chosen now is born;
another breathes his last .
The cycle will continue on
as in the ages past.
"It's true that angels fly the skies
and rule the lives of men.
But angels do not rule my life
For I am one of them."
"Can there be angels?" whispered soft
while he holds her hand tight.
The moon above shines down on them
for one short peaceful night.
The morning will bring more pursuit
as 'cross Triet they run,
But in the while there's only she
More bright than any sun.
"It's clear to me they're real indeed;
They breathe and laugh and sleep.
For one winged saint is here with me,
And safe I swear she'll keep."
"Can there be angels?" he laments,
so numb his deadened soul,
Returned to Cruxis once again
to take his former role.
He cannot blame Yggdrasill now
for measures cruel and vile -
if Anna could be saved the same,
it all would be worthwhile.
"There is no purpose left for me
except the world I fled.
No more will I feel joy or love
My angel's lost and dead."
"Can there be angels?" fears he, for
while Collette's time is brief,
past Chosens' friends have also died
through sword or fire or grief.
And that blue orb upon Lloyd's hand -
the Exsphere he knows well -
his own brown eyes, her spirit bright
do all the same tale tell.
"A spirit of justice it seems
has deemed my term too mild
Not only have I lost a wife
I might soon lose a child."
"Can there be angels?" questions he,
blood dripping from his side.
Yet victory has never brought
this vast amount of pride.
His student has surpassed his skill,
the idealist has won;
redemption once impossible
has come from his own son.
"This was the work of some cherub,
though I thought it cruel whim.
She knew that I could yet be saved -
T'was her that sent me him."
"Can there be angels?" he now prays,
no Cruxis left but him.
As Derris-Kharlan drifts away
the world below grows dim.
He's loath to leave the child he's found,
but this is how it ends;
The land Aselia belongs
to Lloyd and all his friends.
"Martel, as foolish as I've been
and if it is your will,
please bring me to my angel dear -
I love her even still."