The Nomad

Before Sunrise
I shall be off to my doom
One nation’s ruins
My empire consumes 
I will march, I will step
Left foot, right foot 
In continuous reps 
I shall slaughter or be slaughtered
These morbid thoughts 
Allow me not to falter
The evening before my departure 
Flashbacks of the famine I once brought you 
I look upon the face of the infant one 
The gods have blessed this father with
I come to hold 
The wife I no longer bother to kiss
March I shall
For the empire that has nourished me 
From infant to child, child to man
From man, to battlefield god
Your favoritism is what I demand
This morning has come, 
This morning has past
In the gods I trust 
In this steel, my treasure at hand
To kill, to lust, 
No separation of us
No signs of your favor
No shift in my behavior
Grave I may be
The opposition of life often waves at me
As your loyal subject 
I write to you
My lord
Your newly speared nomad
Copyright © | Year Posted 2008

Poem

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