Untitled

Spring grass caressed by breeze.
Winds along side a path,
carved in stone,
set in blood.

Stick huts in a circle,
hounded by gales,
stand beside great,
spires of bone and ash.

A wise man proclaiming,
humanity is right,
stands opposite a maiden,
wreathed in sorrow and loss.

Such is the fate of Empires.

Moments of joy snatched away.
Moments of kindness,
repayed a hundred fold.
Moments of happiness, treasured.

Such is our fate.

What am I talking about here? Which period in time? When? Where? What else am I saying? What is the point of stanza 5 and 6?

And so I went to war,
And there I died
yet still I wander.

I see my wife,
children.
Yet they do not know.

When I served in Hell,
that release to Heaven was not,
granted to me.

I was released to a Hell
of my own making.
Respite, I know it not.

So as all you brash,
fool hardy youth.
Rush to swell the ranks.

Consider what is Hell,
and consider how I have
suffered.

Then consider that,
I was meant to be the
victor.

Something else I just poked up.
-~-~-~-~
You have called down the Thunder. Now reap the Whirlwind.
Warning! In the intrest of safety it is advisable to keep Heltak away from Fire and Flames!
He that humbleth himself wishes to be exalted.
Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man.
Friedrich Nietzsche

Edited by - Heltak on 9/17/2004 6:22:52 PM