06 MARCH 2016, 09:34 PM

And in the dawn of early morn

Before the sun does rise

Stand silhouettes of claymores

And the sound of wounded cries.

The fog floats cross the moor

As the priest gives final rights.

The flags of victors wave

As shadows in fire’s light.

A single drop of blood

Falls from my heavy sword.

Bagpipes fill the night

With echos of each chord.

The stench of death surrounds me

And in my mind is graven

Fear in the eyes of the Fallen

And the caw of the solemn raven.