Smoke fills the battle,
Sounds are of the blades in the night.
Death comes closer,
the zone comes to sight.
Eye's closed, visions are of home,
how lovely is thee.
His past, present,
and his bride to be.
Terrified, not knowing what the
next few moments will bring
Folding arms in a cross,
for he knows, this is now the real thing.
Upon the shield,
The bird glides too the fiery perch
This is not the hollow ground of any church.
Gazing through the glare,
Many brothers of the horde.
Takes a sigh,
Raises the blood worn sword.
Bravely they lurch, into hells domain.
Swiftly they fight, as foretold
In the story of Abel and Cain.
To be a champion is not his glory,
Bravery is the reward.
Now watching brothers fall, one by one
By the sword.
Moving gracefully,
His heart now that of ice.
Stumbling, the lion senses
The first slice.
He drops to his knees,
As one does when they kneel and pray.
This is a good day to die,
Thats what they say, anyway.
Opening his eyes one last time
the soul now is unconstrained to roam.
Beyond the horizon, it begins,
Finally the journey home.
