miércoles, 20 de junio de 2007

Long Live The King

By Sharita

Light penetrates the darken paths
Of the scarred grounds of an English battlefield
Home to men, in pursuit of a king's dream,
To only suffer the wrath of another.
But fearlessly they marched on
To death seemingly, but unknown
Archers fired; Chariots rode,
Until blood masked their shields
And Chain mail clashed no more.
Then Out of the darkness, into the light
Stood nothing more than a mere foot soldier
Although proceeded in battle with many,
He returned home alone.
He closes his eyes in remembrance
Of the remains of once was
And silently cites a prayer, to the merciful God above.
Upon opening his eyes he stands there straight
With the victorious spirit of those before
Then darkness recedes, trenches dissipate,
Leaving signs of a war no more.
Gradually....... He too, fades,
A mere figment of imagination.
Long lives the king he echoes,

As I announce checkmate.

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