The soldiers heart
To stride along the path
Which an empty heart resides
The soldier marches on
With No map, he cannot find
No voice to guide his way
Or give him peace of mind
Grant him easy slumber
For his heart he cannot find
For is he naught but soldier?
Orders he must take
Rend apart his foe
Is that his only fate?
She asked him, "Who is machine?"
A question he cannot define
It burns upon his soul
An answer he must divine
Thrown into bloody conflict
This Demon they all fear
The Spartan marches on
His path, so unclear
She gave him hope where none was found
This woman who touched his heart
Lost in battle, mind unbound
Rescued, He stands apart
Last He stands, of Spartans tall
Long winter almost near
The old soldier carries on
Before he disappears
His life is now a limbo
Purgatory and hell for him
His life can never end
Until his answers win
But He searches on eternal
Forgotten hope, in-between
To Wander forevermore
This man,
Spartan, John, one-seventeen.
