what auguries of the past
did you hold in your fragile grasp to judge
the future of kings
whose reins gave you every right
to guide the future
yet you bled them all of their wisdom
as if they never knew the dawn
some crippled stallion
pale in its endarkenment
on the fields of battle so sad
amid the dusk of fallen warriors
their mighty pauldrons decorated
with the wounds of bullets past
Flynnpoetry 