Look through the eyes of a hero.
There is fire
There is darkness
There is splendor.

He fights.
Clashes of the sword with his cowardly enemies.
flashes of light
screams of the wounded
groans of the dying.

It’s all in his valor.

His notorious armor and rank,
all mirror the faces of those whom he has slain.

One last clash,
one last swipe of his sword
and the blood that begins to pool
is that of a hero…
His blood.

a flash of light
a scream
a groan from a dying hero

His mausoleum is erected,
his valor etched in stone
as the battle rages on

More clashes
More blood
More heroes.

The picture is aging
The corners no longer crisp –
A tear in one side
and the memory falls to the floor

Who will claim that spot on the wall?
Who will look through the eyes of a hero now?