A poem on the fervor of battle. Inspired by Warhammer 40K, The Horus Heresy.

My sight disallows me to see the present.
I can barely see its stain, its carnage, all the resentment.
I only see absolute triumph, mine over thine fallen enemy.
I see utter glory. The heavens grace their divine hand upon me.

There is no greater delight than to fell your foe.
To thrust into flesh and soul,
To rekindle steel with sinew,
To be reborn within violence anew.

We dance, we tumble, we fly, we sing.
Our solemn duels find ourselves wanting—
More of this suffering and bitter strife,
Reaching out to covet another’s life.

When edges clash and teeth sinking—
Time halts to see spirits fleeing.
We paint the world with their corpses,
Every brushstroke, we devour in morsels.

I render unto thee—the absolution.
A place in paradise, a retribution.
Swift, clean, and painless substitution.
The final solution to the unanswerable question.

We are the voiceless choir—
Playing the tune of this restless lyre.
A symphony of blood and bone,
Grinding against cacophonous stone.

There is no melancholy to be found here—
Only bliss, the things all men fear.
Where eyes glisten betwixt moonlit shadow,
On crimson skies they reach the dawn by morrow.