The Lost Faces of the Taken

A flicker of hair in the morning breeze A lost invisible stare through the thicket of trees A shining glint catches the eye Upon inspection there is no metal nearby? A movement unexplained The sounds of hooves beating the plains The scrape of iron as sword is drawn The grunts of men in combat swarm Evil was here one dawn, evil now dead for many morns The red of blood splattered around A stench of death on heated ground The murmuring of monks under the red of the evening sun The suffering of innocents has begun Men in armour order the death of simple village men Burning wood and smoke staining the air with blood strewn bodies everywhere A wrong word or two over mead with friends Could mean respect or death to unarmed men Dark ages where dark powers reside Days of yore saw dark deeds of men in dark times Under blue of sky in these times gone by where rules of law have witnessed many tides The sounds of the woods as pale light breaks through to shine on grounds where evil ruled. Under canopies of branch and leaf misty haze settles around Where shades of shadows hide lost faces of the taken Blending into trees tautly misshapen This ground once witnessed murder man-maken.