Wherefore the darkness, and yet wherefore the sun;

When I fall will I sleep, When I sleep will I dream?

Of battles I fought in life, of deeds I have done;

Is it better a soldiers death, or to die an old man?

These desolate wastelands, are the last lands he’ll see;

Wardush’s final wish, is for honour reprieved.

The bloody helm of an enemy, to rouse his company;

‘I smell the Ashen Forge’, were the last words he breathed.

Mazrahil the Sly Scarab, has but one final fling;

Before sands swallow his legacy, and bury his name.

For all but the few of us, no songs are there sung;

For old soldiers die lonely, heroes of none.

The Old Tower’s shadow, veils o’er their fates;

Tis scorn of providence, mocks their shared doom. 

Nowt awaits but nightfall, their adventures done;

What use now honour, to the dead and forgotten?

Wherefore the darkness, and yet wherefore the sun;

When I fall will I sleep, when I sleep will I dream?

Of battles I fought in life, of deeds I have done?

Is it better a soldiers death, or to die an old man?

S.K