The shadow of action covers you
As a brightness creeps across the world.
Your hair a forgotten pointing
As the stride to battle stirs.

Not now the toys of words.
The smell of belted metal purpose
In your hand. Fly to find a man
To enter and to ****.

The green, the brown the folded
Cold of stiff cloth will warm soon
Against you. How soon cold
Again? No matter. Off you go.