War

While the wind breathes, its lungs fill with air, The torrent spills over and fills with despair, And waiting we lay with our burdens to bear, We gaze oh so lightly upon heavy affair. And slowly we whisper our fears to our ears, And quickly it moves like a clock tower’s cogged gears. Turning with haste, words sharper than spears, And standing we are under these veiled veneers. And as the black tempest transforms to deluge, Our feet are so statute refusing to move, When we all realize these actions don’t behoove, We rest there, souls barren, with naught left to prove. The time stands so gauntly, and dimly morose And whilst they had waited, the men whom arose Had hands to the heavens, with swords in expose For war they had fought, but ‘twas death they had chose. Noiselessly waiting close by the black ashes, The warriors fought whilst enduring backlashes, The pangs growing stronger than lightning’s white flashes, In failure they triumph, in success they reap thrashes. The spirit of Death, oh so horrid and ghastly, In the men’s passing their souls exist lastly, Fight, for the kingdom! So grand and so vastly! Their arsenals ready and bravery aptly.

Together we gather, and humbly assemble, United, we grasp what these heroes resemble, Singing our sorrow, we pertain to dissemble, And one by one crumbling, we all disassemble. Yet legends of men whom are heroes once slain, The men who were rulers in the Kingdom with reign, The smiles that brothers and sisters would feign, Held eternal existence in spite of their pain.