The Battle
Donald P. Goodman III
Unending, grinding battle; crashing steel and blade
and mail and mace and chaos filling all the years
and filling eye and ear and soul, and blood and tears
are rivers flowing past the endless foes arrayed
in ranks of eldritch nightmares, tort'rous tools displayed
before their hungry, cruel, and gleeful sneering leers
as marching forward, summing all the ages' fears,
the enemy stands cruel and bloody, unafraid.
Alone against the horde; but champions arise,
beneath a mighty captain leading our crusade!
Our hopeless hope for triumph on our captain lies,
e'er charging into battle for the priceless prize!