The last drop of the sword
A cool damp air is reflected through holes in the clouds
the cries of death converge in the crowds and enshroud
the valley has warriors strewn about in bouts of insanity
war repossessed humanity as men thrive off profanity
stabbing, cutting and slashing, hell takes utter control
the innocence folds and men see the evil weapons hold
above the battle a man stands with clinched hands
like its respect he demands from his conquest of lands
he manned bands of men less then him and still overcame
acclaim came with his name, undefeated up until today
Standing atop the mount gleaming down at bloodshed
the enemy is stead, colors of red lie deep and embed
powers collide as the death and conquest wed dread
warriors tread through, heads severed and arms shred
morning glances sunlight into his eyes as he cogitates
debates tactical moves to make as ideas begin to collate
he demonstrates supreme stature standing amidst chaos
some lost but he is calm, as he and his enemies eyes cross
he exhausts the facade of honor from his opponents heart
this god of the war held up his hand and started to bark
“it is on this July day that we test our undiminished might
set right a province and kill our enemy, winning the fight”
nobody spoke as the regal leader commanded control
the moment was stole as many watched him bare his soul
his finger pointed and his horses thrust forward engaged us
it was our time to battle with our lives as he had our trust
his lust for glory made him robust as he charged with disgust
to quit or forfeit was irrelevant as he continued kicking dust
finally we reach the enemy and he unsheathes his sword
swinging wildly he gashed and gored through their hoard
this lord gallantly galloped toward the end of the enemies line
divine malign, breaking of spines refines his dominant design
his blood red sword swirls majestically protecting his body
embodying being godly he tears through those who are shoddy
mysteriously he is seen falling down from his famous white steed
mouth is wide gapping, gasping for the air he desperately needs
he rises from the damp ground to face his angered adversary
and contrary to belief the battle stopped and watched wary
the imperial noblemen fell at the edge of his nemesis’s weapon
his gold plated sword had slipped his grip and silence deafened
the clank of the sword that hit the ground rang loud all around
showing respect the battle halted, everyone put their heads down
it was the last drop of his sword that implored an agreeing accord
a circle of warriors gathered aboard and honored their brave lord
the war ceased the day he deceased and the nations agreed on peace
entered in history is a miraculous deed making the bleeding cease
