Fallen

I was thinking about Gueneviere and Arthur.

Blood stains the green grass

Of those who once stood proudly.

Lingering are the hollow footsteps

Of the families left behind.

They wallow in sorrow for their dead beloved ones

Whose bodies lay tangled in a mass of limbs.

Fallen are those knights.

Fallen are those men.

Fallen are those lives.

But honor has not fallen.

Pride has not fallen.

It endures the pain of Heaven or Hell within its Master’s remains.

Fallen are those wicked.

Fallen are those cursed.

Fallen are the ones who cared,

Though they still rejoice.

Always, but fallen.