Tears of a Warrior

Brave, strong, unyielding---
from the edge of another beginning
infinity held by sunrises and sunsets
where fragments of hope scattered
in ghastly, bloody grounds abandoned.
I heard a cry---

So I asked the warrior:

“Enigmatic wrath of vile conquests,
is it “downfall” to spare the rest
of struggling benevolence?
Can your pungent chamber still contain
another gift of ill-gotten crown?”
And the cry became louder.

“Is bravery gauged by the instances
that the lives of the unsuspecting
were risked, wasted and dumped
for the voracious mischief that was
of a meaningless reverie?”
And the crying continued.

“Your strength lay apparently in the gist
of your menacing dominion---
thunders whispering in terror,
oceans crawling into silence,
as the wind perished--- for an eternity.”
Then the cries became sobs.

“Yielding --- is it a branch of immortality
worth dying for to be bestowed?
Would the unforgiving gods of oblivion
caress the breath and capture the heart
of the unborn great unknown?”
The sobbing stopped---

and the warrior knelt.

The sword melted in oddly-laden shame,
as the heart of the warrior yelled in disdain
raindrops came in forceful thrusts
indignantly cleansing the docile tracks
piercing each flesh of the dying flash---
as my last tears fell.



Photo Source: Google Images