Warrior

the thundering hooves

sound like mighty cannons,

as ponies of war

scream out cries of rage,

closer they come,

louder they scream,

until the sound is deafening,

as even the mightiest creatures

run in fear from their great

and terrible power,

like lightning,

they strike down the enemy,

laying waste to

all that 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;

from the early morning mist

he rises,

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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