As the Sun rises, casting a shadow across the land As light emanates from the sleep of night Dispersing evil and doubt that is caught up in darkness A lone rooster crows, announcing visitations By the emissaries of heaven They who inspect the plain along the Troad There, that bloodied and contested field Where heroes fought and died While vultures circle above…the scurrying rabbit is safe today! For there is flesh abundant to partake of, heaps of the slain From yesterday’s fierce battle Many a champion has fallen, many songs are yet to be sung By the bards who, with eyewitness accounts Compose the lines and verses that will live on To be forever etched in the memory of Mankind There, to guide future generations And teach the young virtue and the pursuit of excellence To teach that fear is naught but doubt and insecurity That bravery is a manifestation of subjection To nothing but divine will What is it to live and die with none to chant thy song? But to squander food and sustenance, like a squirrel or a rat Bogging down before the arrival of Winter? Gathering nuts and morsels for fear of want No, humanity is meant for more than that For it is they, beings of flesh and blood The gods have chosen to play their parts As actors in the cosmic theater, manifesting their every desire On the Earth as it is in the Cosmos The knowledge humans benefit are blessings from Olympus The contract dictates they must perform their role well And heed the commands of the deities upon that height Writers of the script, authors of Man’s destiny And so allow fate to evolve...
Yesterday ‘twas fate unravelled For those gazing upon the mighty conflict The denizens of Troy, desperate for victory From the encampment of the Myrmidons Those too old or sick to commit their arms to the fray Fate unravelled for the ranks of warriors Who did rush into battle clad In glorious armor of bronze and golden helmet Armed with sword, javelin and shield The clash of weapons yielding a symphony of death As the ranks of Greeks, Trojans, Aethiopians and Amazons Crashed upon one another, each warrior endowed with The vision of a great victory in their minds and hearts But who would it be to survive and achieve that victory? The thousands now lying upon the field immobile and still A testament to the sacrifice of the day before Would not speak of their experience… For it was they who were butchered for the glory of the gods For the glory of their kings and queens For the glory of their own design, the ego within their hearts Prone they lay, upon the grass, as vultures partake of their flesh Brave they stood and brave they fought, so bravely they died Attaining immortality, yesterday, upon that field at Troy
Silent save for the wind Crying a plaintive melody of melancholy and sadness Sunbeams glimmering upon the plain The wheat stalks gently waver, as if in imitation of the day before Of the ranks of warriors who pushed hard as one To claim the day Mighty steeds pulled along the war chariots Crushing those who hapless, stood in their path An overturned wagon lay on it’s side, it’s driver and horse In eternal sleep doth they slumber, forever dreaming A lone wheel of that vehicle turns slowly Nay it is not the wind, but rather prodded on By some ghost searching for it’s lost life Still unaware that death had claimed it With the lightening flash of a sword
The eerie silence is the aftermath, the finale to the overture That was all too loud and brash just a day ago How many mornings like this have broken, ten years hence Since this great war began? How many brave heroes have themselves been broken? Their strength tested against terrible odds Contributing their deeds to inspire the verses of bards? While the emissaries of the god Ares would suggest Acts of daring and courage The gentle Muses would but cry instead as they gaze At the armored ranks who charged fearlessly Only to be cut down in their prime There upon that field at Troy
Nothing was advantaged, nothing was gained Save a victory for Chairon, carrying souls across The river of eternity The last battle, the final test Before the day when trickery would mighty Troy fall at last And fate would reveal itself one last time There on that silent field, in the lonely dawn, at Troy
Of this the bards tell their tale, of this they sing of glory There upon that field of Troy… In the light of the golden dawn