the ground had turned to mud by then,
trod and sod by step and blood
mixed by death-thrown armored legs
to sickly anxious paste.
the war was weeks if to a day
a battle for which no one knew,
waged between two righteous foes
the princes Lux and Antilum.
Triplets these, with brother Mono,
whom, upon the sidelines stood,
pausing with his armies there
unsure of whom to back.
He waited long and lone, apart,
till blood had dried in broken hearts
till thousands been reduced to two
and family met 'pon earth and rot.
He watched as brother cleft through brother,
watched as one won over other,
watched as blood ran hot from ruined
mouths that screamed after eachother.
On that day in chill'd fall
he stepped into the field of carnage
and as his brothers fought he brought
them each into his arms.
But Lux and Antilum still fought
and in their haze of blood saw not
the wounds which they now wrought
upon their dearest brother.
And silent Mono fell, alone,
hands still tight about his dagger
feeling still the awful chill
of steel between his ribs.
to be or not to be? perhaps neither of thee? indecision sure can be an extended metaphor in the neck
