A Warrior

A warrior was riding up the hill.
His horse was breathing heavily
And stepped the very top.
The warrior so wanted to enhance the wind.
And drew the reins, made the horse stop.

He glanced above and saw the endless sky
With clouds that were floating like a fleet.
He glanced in front and saw the creatures' fly,
And every picture stamped on memory.

The smell of honey from the colored grass,
The silver spring that rang among the flowers,
The twittering of birds that rushed above –
So, the entire world was speaking marvelous.

He felt the sunrays touching softly skin,
And didn't want to close his eyes.
He wanted life, he longed for dreams.
He knew – the world around was wise.

The warrior was riding down the hill
To clasp again the cold dead metal.
His horse was calm, and he was still
Returning to the fog of battle.





Poetry by Alla Antares
Read 589 times
Written on 2007-05-11 at 08:36

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she
If I tell you what I think about it maybe you'll think I am way off the mark but here goes anyway: I think the warrior lives inside us all. Sometimes life gets so crazy, so many battles to fight. But then like the warrior, our zeal to go on only comes when we are in solitude, in a place where we stop and look at nature's beauty or just think about the things in life that we love.....things that give us the strength to go on, then once we reach that point, we get the heart to go headstrong into the battle of life, and fight on with zeal!
2007-05-11