The Commander’s Lament Where are my armies? They lie scattered, shattered, and torn. Where are my swords? Rusted, bent, and broken. Where are my shields? Rent in twain scraps of metal upon the field. Where are my helmets? Pierced and bloodied failing the head. Where are my spears? Laying in splinters upon the ground. Where are my armies? Where was our Faith? Buried with our dead. Where was our Strength? It fled in the wind. Where was our Courage? Suffocated by Fear and Terror. Where was our Resolve? Battered by the will of our enemy. Where was our Rage? Doused in the trembling of our souls. Where was our Faith? My precious sons have all been stolen from my grasp. With every drop of priceless fluid, they have killed my soul. There should be my shell, fallen with my sheep. Now, bereft of might, there is no blade to catch my fall. Cursed by the heavens, mine is the worst of fates. -- Peter Wilson ©2006, Wilson Ernst Enterprises, All rights reserved.