Ever restless.
Seeking battles to be won in far away lands.
Armour chinks, soldiers march, blood is spilled.
Conquer or be conquered, kill or be killed.
Campaign after campaign, year after year.
Where the final victory lies?
How many triumps must he achieve until ... enough.
Staring into the abyss, he sees the abyss staring back into him.
Fighting the monsters, looking into the mirror, finding one.
For what have I become? For what I have been?
For what are the spoils good for, if rest cannot be found?
The destruction. Senseless.
The power. Pointless.
The fame. Meaningless.
Yearning to watch a flower grow, plant a seed, start a life,
Yearning to find love in woman's heart,
Yearning to build, to create, to evolve...
Suddenly the sound of trumpet fills the air,
The soldiers march, armour chinks, one foot follows the other.
But this time is different, it's not his call,
Freedom found in decision made, new life is born.
Just like a Phoenix raising from his own aches,
the warrior lays down his sword and disappears down the rugged path.