Gaya

The armies march, the war path beckons,

Unflinching and desolate, the heart thumping silence.

To find peace they hear the war cries,

Abandoning that, which they fight to preserve.

Approaches the enemy, equaling and staunch,

Fire that rushes and pumping within.

The heavens look down on a future scarlet,

A momentary vaccum before the charge.

A slow and painful redemption.

Hopes and dreams sliced by the blade.

A harmonious dance of doom and revenge,

Slaying the soul, in a shroud of glory.

A panoramic mist of darkness and stench,

An epic of victory and tears to come.

A purpose fulfilled, and battles won.

A lost heart, A wound deep,

More lasting than time.

A spirit mourns of true defeat,

The helpless pulse of earthen slumber.