Warrior

the thundering hooves sound like mighty cannons,

ponies of war scream out their cries of rage,

closer they come,

louder they scream,

until the sound is deafening,

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 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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