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.
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