Battlefield awaits

Awaits for every moment, Counts every minute, In search of the perfect strike. Dreams drift in restless hours, Memories of home—so distant, Yet war calls, relentless. Wishes that cannot be defined, Not by fate nor by fear, Only by steel and fire. Venturesome, like a soldier’s charge, Through fields of crimson and dust, Where death whispers behind the veil. The moon stands guard at night, Lighting the battlefield’s silent graves, As stars flicker—fallen souls in the dark. At dawn, red, orange, and yellow rise, Smoke and fire paint the sky, Screams spoken in a language of war. A dark cloud, lightning-struck, The clash of steel and cannon roar, Revenge and pain ride side by side. Yet in the end, beyond the wreckage, Through burden and blood, There lingers kindness. Kindness, a seed in barren ground, Love, a fading whisper in the wind, Faith, a soldier’s last resolve, And trust—fragile, but unbroken. From all the ruins of war, Still, there remains *hope*.