The Commander

The Northern wind whistles again;
The Men, the dagger-hearts step out
By the fire; giving strength to the night
Flickers of snow and air burn together.

Horses, tired and wounded beg with silence
Animals, it is said, have undiscovered senses
Warm citadels sleep, myths and closed eyes
And yet, whatever is spoken of, isn't a lie.

Sides, centre, roads await the next strike
Red, green, blue - everything's dark at night
The truth reveals itself only to the truly blind
For men have other senses, apart from sight.

The commander rises, arms of steel;
He has tonight, a new vision of darkness
He knows the arrow's flying for him
He blows the horn, his heart's ready to bleed.

p.s. We know what's coming...