The Knighted

The Knighted

His sword sharpened against the foe,

His armor burnished and gleaming,

His boots marching steadfast,

He strides toward heroic deeds.

Newly knighted, no mere squire,

With furrowed brow and steely glance,

With heavy hand and lofty aim,

His chest barely contained beneath the breastplate.

Thus he strides in company,

A hero yet unknown,

His fate still furled,

But approaching fast.

A warrior untried he,

Trained in true method of centuries,

His lessons imbued in his every limb,

A force unreckoned amid armies.

Proudly he marches in stolid union,

Implacable regiment forging forward,

Helmets shining, spear tips gleaming,

An infantry immeasurably mighty.

The field ahead lying below a small rise,

The enemy laid out corps by corps,

Unknowing of the glorious end waiting,

Their battle horns call brazen.

Now his heart stirs beneath the steel,

Now his blood roars in his veins,

Now his senses summon all his attention,

Now the arrow pierces his eye.

Thus does the hero fall,

The first casualty and unknown to history.

One of a number of a battle long buried,

His contribution never recorded.

His moment merely anticipation,

He has passed, mourned perhaps,

But briefly, and unwritten, or at least unnamed.

The world moves on.

Cliff Lake 3/20/2024

CliffSongs