Thread: Spartan

Spartan

Cold as it passes through me
Piercing to new found depths
Alone I sit and bleed
Listening to those gentle steps

Of that pale horseman’s steed
Waiting from this life, to be freed

I feel the chill of death’s hand
Yet from its grasp I will not heed
Forcing to my feet I stand
Before that which, other’s fleed

One by one they fall before me
With my sword so firmly grasped
Herald by the warrior’s creed
I alone am bound to complete this task

Wondering if each breathe will be my last
Yet, am I driven by the fallen warriors of past

Valiantly I lift my blade
I am not a righteous martyr
As their lives, my brethren gave
Failing to prevail in this pretentious slaughter

Willing their souls, when death bade
Their gift in history’s mind will fade

Even as my vision blurs
Yet more gallant dreams I harbor
With my speech becoming slurred
I will not call on the gods of my father

Though I can go no farther
Yet will I still proclaim; the victory of my Sparta.
~BCM~