Soldiers stand staggered as sweet smells of the seconds
Before rain fills there breaths with
Pleasure as they wait for commands.

Each soldiers stairs his counterpart down
As if they starred into a mirror
Looking for imperfections on the rock hard faces.

Two arms rise and fall
As the conductors start the music of marching.
They pour into the valley as there opposing side mimics
There decline down the hills which is laced
With the skins of there childhood and the blood of there ancestors.

Rain falls strongly from the heavens
As the warriors make there final approach to meet rivals.
With swords drawn they lunge at there opponents
With smooth and quick gestures of combat.

Weapons slide and embrace in a waltz of sparks and metal.
The grass that once swayed to a different tune is now
Trampled by the new tempo of swift steps and acrobatic arm movements.

Proudly they fall, gracefully bowing out as there sweat and blood
Adds to the puddles of the rainwater.
Thunder claps for the encore of that craft
As lightening displays the path for the pounding feet to follow.

Armor shines like waxed wood as the fleet
Swarms in patterns of encompassing conflict.
Sure footed movements of feet slam against the muddied landscape.

Speedy swings of sharpened steel
Cut the air as they suddenly scrap against skin.
Destinies find there final path
As the armies fall in submission of exhaling breaths.

The clouds exit from the theater
As the curtain falls on the valley.
The last performance of the battling battalions comes to an end.
 
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