A Fallowless Field

What cursed plain, where blood doth ever flow
And war’s unending wrath shall never cease?  
A field where neither time nor mercy show
But reeks with death and mocks the hope of peace

Beneath the sky, now ever bruised and torn
The soil drinks deep the ichor of the slain
Each blade of grass a dagger, sharply worn
Each breath of wind a soldier’s dying pain

The sun doth hide its face in shamed retreat
As clouds of ash and smoke obscure the day
The earth, a grave where foes and comrades meet
In crimson tides their flesh shall waste away

No bird dares sing, no beast may linger here
For all is still beneath the spectral pall
And yet, faint whispers creep upon the ear
As if the dead still answer battle’s call

Lo! Ghostly banners rise, and phantoms tread
Their hollow eyes ablaze with fury’s spark
The war is waged anew, though all are dead
A timeless carnage wreathed in endless dark

O wretched ground, thy thirst shall never sate
Thy soil forever stained by mortal strife
A cursed theatre of eternal fate
Where blood is wine and death is life