This Morning, I Sharpen My Sword

The fog will lift today. The sun will unveil its might…as will two armies. The meadow before me is green, lush with spring. The air is sweet with perfume: daisies, tulips, wildflowers – but blood…its stench is thick. It covers all. There will be, there can be no victor; yet, this morning, I sharpen my sword. Damn be the man who first cries “hold, enough!”

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