Hooves do beat upon the ground,
Barely making a sound.
Over the hill, over the moor!
To battle, to war!
Barely making a sound,
upon the bloody ground!
Crimson splash, deadly slash!
Do you hear them?
Can you see?
The end is coming,
On softly beating wings.
Hear the shadow of doubt that calls?
Hooves do beat upon the ground.
Wings do stroke a gentle rhythm.
Drifting on air, racing over earth…
Young ones do cry, hewn by a blade.
Never meant to die, why aren’t they saved?
Shrieks of horses, screams of men.
Never again, scream no more!
Sound has faded, from the ears of men!
Song’s of victory hath died upon thy lips!
Light has faded, from the eyes of men!
Lives torn asunder, hopes dragged under!
My end is coming, on softly beating wings!
The eagles are coming! Cries the Halfling,
And what use are they to me?
For I see the shores of farthest dark,
Somewhere past the shores of sea!
Depths of light, unknown to me!
Author's Chapter Notes:
k, so here goes nothing....