A 10-stanza poem on a captain’s last stand. Inspired by Shakespeare’s Macbeth and Disco Elysium from ZA/UM.

Whence all this knocking?
Minds frayed, heads locking.
Whence all this stalling?
Blades stayed, leaves falling.

Rifles longing—their foes’ falling.
Tears stinging, the end’s bringing.
When heads fleeing, stay thinking—
Fear’s creeping, and souls’re sinking.

Peace, brethren in the hilt—
Least, conjure battle still.
Feast, dining to our fill.
Tease, crowding on the kill.

Dream me, a glorious regime.
Leave two open eyes to glean—
A life forgone, a place where we—
Lean closer to the frigid steel.

Sorrow the lark, furrow the cries,
Swallow the lot, behest the lines.
Bestow your heart, a rest for eyes,
‘Morrow we start, ‘morrow we lie.

Tonight, the stars shine their last.
To every man, gone is the past.
As light flees our collective mass,
So does hope in darkness we pass.

Onwards, to our final hour.
Stand tall, lest our foes cower.
Lead them all to the thereafter,
To Charon bringeth—they will suffer.

Death will we enthrall.
Bayonets ready as we engage and extol.
To smite and crawl. To fight and fall.
Up heaven’s droll, this hellish brawl.

Fly with me, die with me?
Run must we, fall back to sea?
Mighty steeds, flailing greaves—
Clashing swords, us no more.

Whence then—all this falling?
Blood boiling, loins longing.
Whence then—all this dying?
Skies burning, crows flying.