Crows

Morning
I look out over
The Vally of the Fallen
Death
Steam rising in cold air
Like reluctant spirits
Thousands
Wasted
Fathers, sons and brothers
No more
I, soldier, leader of men, hero
Of carrion birds
Strategist, murderer, destroyer of dreams
No longer
Henceforth and forever
My soul is pledged
To life

Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Daedalan, in the year 508 AF.