What would thou think of me tying rope to the tree?
With every strike mine own sword stabs back at me.
Perhaps I will let mine enemy pierce me,
For I can go on no longer.
Each day I sharpen and shine my blade.
And each day in its reflection I see myself fade.
If only the Fades could snip mine tarnished thread
And leave me strewn among the field with the other soldiers lying dead.
I look to the heavens; may He guide me.
......
What would thou think of me tying rope to the tree?
With every strike mine own sword stabs back at me.
Perhaps I will let mine enemy pierce me,
For I can go on no longer.
Each day I sharpen and shine my blade.
And each day in its reflection I see myself fade.
If only the Fades could snip mine tarnished thread
And leave me strewn among the field with the other soldiers lying dead.
I look to the heavens; may He guide me.
......