"War!", the cry still echoes
From the mountains to the sky.
Mothers and their children
Weep in huddled masses "Why?"
Each man forges forth from home,
Tools rusting in the field.
Fealty to his lord requires,
The enemy must yield.
The masses group,
Supplies arrive,
The army lives,
A buzzing hive.
Tomorrow morn the battle cry
Will sound across the meadow.
Now it’s each man for himself,
Forget your friends and fellows.
They toss and turn throughout the night.
Each one dreams of love and home.
Who will make it through the fight,
And who will die alone?
At last the night is over,
The conflict drawing near.
Captains have their final orders,
"Lines will form up here."
And as the sun climbs in the sky,
The tableau then unfolds.
A chance for those with might
And faith, a triumph for the bold.
The sun glints on the sharpened sword
Proud  lances blaze with light.
Burnished armor gleams in glory
Ready for the fight.
Chargers stamp the grass below,
Hungry for the battle.
A trumpet sounds the awaited call,
For knights to test their mettle.
Archers launch their winged plague,
A cascading rain of death.
Piercing bone and sinew,
The dying draw last breaths.
Lances shatter and armor clatters
As knights crash to the turf.
Steel-shod hooves crush steel-clad men
Into the bloodstained earth.
Swords clash and ring as anguished
Screaming echoes in the air.
Men fall like wheat before a scythe
The carnage breeds despair.
And at the dusk, the conflict done,
A single man stands high.
Then, looking on the havoc wrought,
He quietly starts to cry.