Two armies face,
Under wild and impartial skies.
Tension, drawn and nocked,
Waiting for the order to loose.
The drummers beat cadence,
Tempo building
Matching my racing pulse.
Clarion call,
Drowning out all thought.
Ground quaking,
With the pounding
Of hundreds of feet.
Battlecries and wordless screams
Split the air.
Alike to the one
Rising in my own throat.
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 8:55 PM UTC
Two armies face,
Under wild and impartial skies.
Tension, drawn and nocked,
Waiting for the order to loose.
The drummers beat cadence,
Tempo building
Matching my racing pulse.
Clarion call,
Drowning out all thought.
Ground quaking,
With the pounding
Of hundreds of feet.
Battlecries and wordless screams
Split the air.
Alike to the one
Rising in my own throat.
(c) Jesse Bourque
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