a fate that many suffer in honor. yet still they await judgment on their souls.
i only hope that they make it through the gate.


Your Judgment I Await.



I stand before thy golden gate.
Your judgment I await.
I stand as you decide my fate.

On this cool moonlit night.
I prepare myself to fight.

I strap on my plate.
Pick only arrows straight.

I pick up my sword.
And call to the horde.

My horse is ready outside.
I go before it with pride.

I pick up my helm.
And I ride across the realm.

I go to a battle of love and hate.
No one will ever hear of my fate.

But I have no fear.
For I have my spear.

No one ever cried.
No one realized that I died.

But my fellows remained with me to the last.
And we all fell as one within the past.

And so, alas my life is spent.
My armor fit without a dent.

I stand before thy golden gate.
Your judgment I await.
I stand as you decide my fate.




Poetry by Ian
Read 1283 times
Written on 2006-05-03 at 16:45

Tags Gate  Fear  War 

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Christoffer Waye
I liked this one, a very honorable poem, felt like reading it aout of The art of war.
I almost had its own war drums to the text :)
2006-05-26