Through the travail of the ages,
Midst the pomp and toil of war,
Have I fought and strove and perished
Countless times upon this star.

In the form of many people
In all panoplies of time
Have I seen the luring vision
Of the Victory Maid, sublime.

I have sinned and I have suffered,
Played the hero and the knave;
Fought for belly, shame, or country,
And for each have found a grave.

I cannot name my battles
For the visions are not clear,
Yet, I see the twisted faces
And I feel the rending spear.

Perhaps I stabbed our King
Feigning loyalty by his side.
Yet, I've called his name in blessing
When after times I died.

In the dimness of the shadows
Where we hairy heathens warred,
I can taste in thought the lifeblood;
We used teeth before the sword.

While in later clearer vision
I can sense the coppery sweat,
Feel the pikes grow wet and slippery
When our phalanx, Minax met.

Hear the rattle of the harness
Where the Jukan darts bounced clear,
See their chariots wheel in panic
From the Meer's leveled spear.

See the goal grow monthly longer,
When Trinsic’s hour was dire.
Hear the crash of tons of granite,
Smell the quenchless burning fire.

Once again I feel the anguish
Of that blistering treeless plain
When the gargoyles showered death bolts,
And our discipline was in vain.

I remember all the suffering
Of those arrows in my neck.
Yet, I stabbed a grinning savage
As I died upon my back.

Once again I smell the heat sparks
When my valorite plate gave way
And the lance ripped through my entrails
As on Britain's field I lay.

In the windless, blinding stillness
Of the glittering Buccaneers sea
I can see the bubbles rising
Where we set the captives free.

Midst the spume of half a tempest
I have heard the bulwarks go
When the crashing, point blank round shot
Sent destruction to our foe.

I have fought with wand and cutlass
On the red and slippery deck
With all Hell aflame within me
And a rope around my neck.

And still later as a General
Have I galloped with Dupre
When we laughed at death and numbers
Trusting in the King's Star.

Till at last our star faded,
And we shouted to our doom
Where the sunken road of old Yew
Closed us in it's quivering gloom.

So but now with swamp dragons a'clatter
Have I waddled on the foe
Belching death at twenty paces,
By the star shell's ghastly glow.

So as through a glass, and darkly
The age long strife I see
Where I fought in many guises,
Many names,
But always me.

And I see not in my blindness
What the objects were I wrought,
But as Gods rule o'er our bickerings
It was through Their will I fought.

So forever in the future,
Shall I battle as of yore,
Dying to be born a fighter,
But to die again, once more.

Very nice, Terrance. *applauds*

*cheers*

I love it

Great poem Terrance....

Good job. Thanks for sharing it!