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| On the fields of battle, forward vision is a blur. The only clarity comes through the reflections of the weapons we wield. Therein, we witness the damage we've done this day. |
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| Day or night, the darkness will distort one's truth. Through our weapons, the carnage we've caused, shines brighter than the nightmares in each our every pause |
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| Approaching new terrain, we will not feel the frigid air. We will only march onwards as our directives are detailed. If we glance within our blades, a different scene paints the fields last known |
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| In the end, time will claim both man and deadly steel. Many moons will keep our victories and losses relegated to the words of passers-down. Some day though, our remains, both bone and steel, will be found and claimed. Many thoughts may arise, how deadly blades fare the least well of all. They grow brittle as the ground it rests within. Makes one wonder why the sieging every stirred, if any side truly won, such a war that only ends in dirt and stone. |
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