Warrior,
Wayward passage through mountains and creek
Sword bearing, brutalising
A bastion of medieval belief
Succulence of blood, yet a sour note
The progression of sapiens yet to pronounce
So how can this story unfold?
If we can't bear to turn the other cheek

Warrior,
Culture displaced by rage and fury
Interaction bequeathed to those who accept
A tantalising prospect, fading into black
An indent on iron and steel
Becoming myth and drowning in the lake.
Must we look no further than the garden?
The fields of a distant land, forgotten
And incensed at no hand to shake

Warrior,
We will not submit to isolation and ambiguity
But catch the flowers we've longed to chase
And meet the farmhand, an enigma no more
Determined to melt the hilt of metal
And join the wandering eye of family.