The Clouds Are Crying
Eyes once so bright,
sharp and keen
now misted from the fight,
have lost their glean.
Body that stood so strong and proud,
with sword in hand and hawk on arm,
lies broken and shattered upon the ground,
as the hawk cries above in woeful alarm.
Alas brave knight, the clouds are crying,
And the sun turns red in morning light,
For upon the battlefield, you are dying,
For fighting he whom was not your fight.