Heroes

That he who threaded with monsters in the dark, glooming over the corpses of enemies untold, with shambling eyes He saw over the field their unhappniness and misery.

That I wept a tear for that lonesome man, the victor of victors, crowned with the death of his comrades, and grey and dulled over a battle in which the sun has feebled his mind's eye.

The sword is withdrawn at last, the last clangour to be heard for a thosuand miles. And with a havey hand set in his brow finally all the blood flows downward into the night.

He returned with the news to the village from which he came, and no applause he received, thankless and forgetful was his homeplace. For the cycle of information had already wheeled, reincarned and revived a million times over.

What a point? He asked himself, crossing his arms with a huff? What a lie?

Is that war? Is it that this conflict that so rained over their lives and dertermined their fate in years and cannon blasts so meaningless that they cannot even recognize my face?

The wrinkles in his heart sprawled deeper that night, drawing a contour with each beat of his tormend path.

In dreams with weaked hearts he saw the face of three of his friends. In bleary and overcast skies with lifeless eyes thier visage smiled at him. They waved their arms at him, and he waved back, but though happy to see him he knew them to be an illusion of simple fluff and felather in the palimpsest of the life.

As rivulets of water the rain had flowed that day, and so his room's window craked open and covered him in dropples of new rain. He did not awake, but he dreamed of surprise, and the slap of fate.

In the middle of the torment of the storm then he stirred, he cracked one eye open and quickly seized a flying leaf, blowing it away and quickly jumping over into the threshold.

He clung to the frame as if his life depended on it. But his other hand was slipping and he wondered if it was worth it to jump.

But then then he heard the song from a bird and saw the first rays, it did not bring him comfort, nor solace, as he basked and roasted under the green reflection of the grass, the blue of the sky and rainbow of his life.

And yet he smiled, he smiled, and he knew why. I am alive, and they are not he thought.

Ha aha ha, alive.