Poem: A foe approaches

They gather festerwith changing winds gaining strength – a storm foretold hits weary ground. Foreign and false, their tongues hiss and flicker under a banner of crimson like blood they lust to spill and black, the abyss they’d banish us to. The elders know well tales and tragedies of old the youth have heard but disbelieve, for who would attack this peaceful kin’dom? Yet torches burn on yonder hill blades bare, shimmering in twilight if night falls and light loses land Elysium could fall to foe and fear. Who shall love if hate takes the crown? Who shall live if the shield shatters? Who shall hope if they tear us down? Who shall defend what matters? Should war break out, take note, my dear, for darker times have passed before and serve as a lesson that never again can the foe be allowed to be victor.