Hail the warrior covered in dust from the battlefield. Hail he who walks the path of fist, bone, wit and sword. Fear him for his mercy is far less than his wrath. Respect him for it is still as swift as his blade.
His raiment is battered and torn about his form. But no noble has held their head as high as he. Pride from purpose and sense of self fill his veins. It spills upon the earth like water in a summer torrent.
His cries are the thunder of his soul sent forth. The heavens shake from the power which fills a mere mortal. Lo the Gods have cast their eyes upon him this day. For even in their grandeur they will not shine as bright as he.
He is the sun and all suns set at the culmination of days. His blade is straight though blunted from a thousand blows. His shoulders are broad but stooping day to day. The weight of victory is heavy upon body and soul.
Let him rest the way a warrior does. Let him sheathe his blade one last time in flesh and blood. Let him cry his soul to the heavens before it fades. Let his glory burn brighter than the stars before vanishing.
Let Him Fight On!
colanah · Wed Feb 13, 2008 @ 07:40pm · 0 Comments |