Sunday, 15 August 2010


Footsteps firm on barren sand
no guilty regrets, no sentiments to hide
Crimson drops liven the thirsty land
flowing free drained from the cut neckline

The shining sword in his bleeding hand
has won his battle it's bleeding as well
the metal that spilled the enemy's blood
is his weapon, his pride and his Holy Cross.

His wavering shadow and benumbed limbs
tell him the end isn't far.
but over mutilated torsoes and slashed heads
the Hero walks proud- never lost a war.
Knowing bravehearts dwell not beneath the soil
but high among the stars.

Dark clouds come and hide the scorching sun
Rain pours down, cleanses his skin and sword
the face glows pure, why, his deeds are done
Salvation; At last; the pain is no more.
Etched across his face the hero's final words shine
"I've lived the life worth dying for; I leave no legacy behind."
A bolt of Lightening strikes his Cross; sanctifies his soul
Dark Blood and the soil burns; sole testimony- his Sword.

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