Warrior

The thundering hooves

sound like mighty cannons,

as ponies of war

shriek out their cries of rage,

closer they come,

louder they scream,

as even the mightiest creature

runs in fear

from their great

and terrible power,

like lightning

they strike down the enemy,

laying waste

to whatever moves’

destroying

all that lives.

With cold sullen eyes

the warrior stares down

at the broken bodies

that once were men,

he takes no pleasure

in death,

only in the sweetness

of survival,

in the warmth

of another breath;

rising with the early morning mist,

his eyes have seen the coming

of a new day,

his heart has known the joy

of another battle,

proudly he stretches forth

his scarred and bloody hands,

giving thanks

to the creator

for all things;

good and bad.

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