Meldradrin (poetry)

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This is part one of a poem I am working on...tell me if it is any good...lol..

"Meldradrin"

A curious looking man was sitting near the village well,
"Friend", spoke I, "or foe, I cannot tell, speak to me, where is it that you dwell?"
And in an otherworld voice He told me that he sojourned on earth from heaven's hell:
the ancient battlefields of the bloody ethereal plains,
where angel and devil alike are maimed and slashed and slain.
"Be you fair or fay", asked I, "ye who lives where angels die"
"Fair I may be, or fay, that is for you to see", was his immediate reply.

"If your true form could I see, wings or fangs, then yourself I could believe, for in my eyes the truth would belie"
"In your eyes the truth lies, be fair or foul my form, but to see, your soul would scream and cry", came his ever-quick reply.
"Angel you must be, one who speaks of truth and lies, you who live where angels die".
"Angel am I, though devil could lie his truth and say he lived in his Paradise," he simply replied.

And to me he showed his true form, and in his eyes a thunderstorm,
And on his mind an eerie light, as if to make darkness flee from night.
Then I knew that his words were true, and I felt my soul to cry:
This man lived in the land where angels live and die.

"Angel", said I, "Winged Seraphim, or whatever you may be
your radiance makes the sun seem dim, and makes a slave seem free"
"Human" spoke He, "I am but small and weak in the land of Paradise,
and all I am is bleak and bland comprared to the others in that land.
I am eternal, but no angel be I, nor infernal, I am but an inhabitant in the heaven's sky,
for I live in the place where angels and demons live, and fight, and die.

"What purpose do you serve, eternal being?" asked I, "evil, I believe, from the fires where Styx will flow"
"To observe, and only to observe" said he "A punishment or reward, I shall not ever know"
"A punishment from above, or a punishment from below?"
"...A punishment or reward, I shall never know."

"Fair being, for fair you appear to me, speak the truth, for demented I must be,
To believe your tale which changes more often than the time"
"Then, listen, human, to my tale and hear my ancient ryhme"
But warn you I must, your soul will surely tremble, and remember, to hear it you implored"
And surely, my soul did wretch and tremble, and, for release, I hope, his rhyme I now record.

 

Thats a pretty cool poem, keep them coming.