A/N: So this is basically a poem about the final battle against Ozai. No particular point of view, just observation. I have always loved to idea of red dawns.
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Red-dawn rising slows the breath.
Whispers carry -what secrets hidden?- through the dull air
At what point will someone say,
someone tell them-now?
Soft breeze stirs, dances with an un-cadenced rhythm.
round and round and round...
Stop.
No distraction, no thought, just know...
that it is now
Red sun rises, quickened breath.
All for now, all for this.
Pain and hunger, need and tears
find thier way to soar.
Screams, unintelligible, like rabid dogs at meat,
echo... echo... 'cross the plains
running, running, panting, panting.
Who could survive a red dawn?