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After the War

Black clouds, torn by a darker screaming wind’s rage
as chill sheeting rain falls on a black blood soaked Tor
Mud splattered men, weary struggle home once more
A battle fought, as both winner or loser go, all are aged

High Lord’s grand plans and many a low man’s sword
determined the bitter outcome of this last bloody act
And only Time and history’s log will record the fact
when men stood and were served from Fate’s hoard

The Druids walked among us, healing tattered flesh
even as we walked into the hills, soul sore, needing rest
We go to a far land now, where peace we’ll get to test
pounding swords into plowshares, as memories mesh

Was it all worth the bitter cost and pain we endured I demand
but only the ever empty echoes come, in no answer to my pain
And on I weary march, and on I do go, into the unknown again
a sadder and a wiser man, at least this time escaping Fate’s hand

In the distance, a storm breaks, signaling the anger of the Gods I hear
And we hardly care or notice, for we are worn to a fine edge indeed
We are as a sword sharpened too many time, worthless as a weed
Etched by the dangers we have survived, shaped by our own fears

Is there magic enough to bind us, heal us, take us to peace
or are we on the last leg, of a long cruel journey to nowhere
So tired are we, so overdrawn on our courage and seeking care
our souls, hoping for a chance at renewing of our life’s lease

Dawn comes soon, and we’ll learn the price, either way
And set our pace for the setting sun and a distant land
Where we might build a life and not in anger raise our hand
Oh I say on that day, I will kneel and kiss the earth, and pray