Thoughts on life, love and faith by Plasticmind.

The battlefield is set and each warrior is numbed by the blood pounding in his ears and the sound of an uncertain tommorrow. Like a deathly breeze, the wind of a hundred thousand frightened men gasping and blowing their last breath sweeps across the the field and dark spots appear before their eyes. Without warning, like the sudden bursting of some long-dammed river, the lines break, and gutteral screams of unearthly measure rise from the field and like the crashing of ocean upon rock, men crash upon men with blood red foam. Swords and spears sparkle in the mid-day sun; but no warmth flows here, save the blood of the angry. Cold steel plunges deep into warm flesh and bites hard. The cold is victorious and it recklessly plunges forward, driving warmth away into the dark night. So the enemy lay slaughtered among the friends and I sit and weep for the coming of darkness, the death of innocence and the sorrow of the stars.