Twenty years of worlds and wars,
Of distant planets, taverns, stars.
Of heroes forged in pixel light,
And quests that carried through the night.
Friends appeared as names in green,
Some still here, some rarely seen.
Yet every game and every mile
Left echoes worth a quiet smile.
The graphics changed, the screens grew wide,
New legends rose, old favorites died.
But still that library stands the same—
A timeline built from every game.
Not just achievements, ranks, or score,
But moments saved forevermore.
A younger self in every title,
Each chapter humble, grand, or vital.
Twenty years—a strange, small thing,
Measured not by what you win,
But by the worlds you wandered through
And who you were when they welcomed you.
So here’s to every late-night quest,
The victories and the glorious mess.
For in that list of games unseen,
Lives twenty years of where you’ve been.
By candle’s glow and monk’s worn hand,
Were tales of grace and martyr’s stand.
Of dragons slain and angels near,
Of saints who walked through flame and fear.
A maiden's vow, a lion’s tear,
A voice from Heaven, bold and clear.
They bore the cross through blood and flame,
Each soul afire with holy name.
Chains could not bind what faith had freed,
Nor death undo the righteous deed.
Their lives — a gospel inked in gold,
In whispered prayers and stories told.
So let these legends light your way,
Through shadowed night and trialed day.
For though the world may rise in sin,
The lives of saints still burn within.
Twenty years of worlds and wars, Of distant planets, taverns, stars. Of heroes forged in pixel light, And quests that carried through the night. Friends appeared as names in green, Some still here, some rarely seen. Yet every game and every mile Left echoes worth a quiet smile. The graphics changed, the screens grew wide, New legends rose, old favorites died. But still that library stands the same— A timeline built from every game. Not just achievements, ranks, or score, But moments saved forevermore. A younger self in every title, Each chapter humble, grand, or vital. Twenty years—a strange, small thing, Measured not by what you win, But by the worlds you wandered through And who you were when they welcomed you. So here’s to every late-night quest, The victories and the glorious mess. For in that list of games unseen, Lives twenty years of where you’ve been.
‧₊˚𖤣 𖥧‧₊⚘ ❀༉˚.
+rep friendly
By candle’s glow and monk’s worn hand, Were tales of grace and martyr’s stand. Of dragons slain and angels near, Of saints who walked through flame and fear. A maiden's vow, a lion’s tear, A voice from Heaven, bold and clear. They bore the cross through blood and flame, Each soul afire with holy name. Chains could not bind what faith had freed, Nor death undo the righteous deed. Their lives — a gospel inked in gold, In whispered prayers and stories told. So let these legends light your way, Through shadowed night and trialed day. For though the world may rise in sin, The lives of saints still burn within.
MERRY CHRISTMAS