...To take our hand
To guide us, swift and true, to longing amidst green fields and blood soaked ruins. We do not see you, but we hear from you, as we walk along this blissful nights embrace. Through shadows and carrion, does our ship feast. Dead to some, yet very much alive to others; so who hear the call of our battle hymn. Once hear, all is lost, in sorrowful bliss, they charge forward; the forgotten sundered cyst. To break it apart, to rend it to side, and rake at it, is to invite bloodshed; a thing most ill-begotten even to children and men of War.