There is no rain to bring relief to our sweating bodies...
only the reign of arrows... and their offering of stabbing pain

There are no stars to put on a display of dances and twinkles...
only the rotating show of the thrown daggers

There is not a river to reflect the beauty of life...
Only the blade of the sword... that reflects my possible death

There are no clouds in the sky to soften my spirit
only the low cumulus smoke of gunpowder and ash

There is no sun to shed its bright flame upon us
On the flickers and flashes of light of ignited bullets

There is no difference between night and day... they are the same...
Only the difference is who the enemy is.. and who is the Savior...

The grass no longer grows full and abundant in luxurious green
It is constantly trampled and stepped on... leaving it withered and tan...

There is no snow...no soft white snowflakes to give us a cold kiss
Only the bites of thrown, bitter, cold shattered pieces of glass

There are no vast variety of colors to adore... only two hues
Light and Darkness... So we can tell who is for us... and who is against us

    *

The weather... and landscape wasn't always this way...
It wasn't the Lord's intentions to have such a horrific display...

What? What did you ask? What is it like on the battlefield?
Well...sit down dear child... and I will tell you...