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