The tents are pitched
For a night of rest,
All preparations made
For the coming test:
The armour is oiled and fitted,
Blades unsheathed to whet the edge,
The army gathered and ready
To make good their pledge
To battle.
The warrior, who leads by example, pours scorn across the ages on the future leader who kills by decree from his safety, obliterating thousands by his pen, killed for just being there, in the wrong place, at the wrong time, in the wrong age, when power speaks from great distances.
After battle,
In honour the shades,
Valiant to the last,
Observe the future
From the long past;
For the ghost army
Earth is the shield
Over their bones
On the battle field