• When peace and world order decay, the Warrior takes up arms and enters the fray.
    With much sadness and great dismay, the people of his homeland look on as the slaughter continues day by day.
    Creating horrible sights under skies alight, to a soldier the fight is the good fight.
    World leaders with all their fanaticism march their military might headlong into the night.
    The situation’s so extreme; the world appears to rip apart at its seams.
    When political ideologies meet, does the Warrior advance, or does he retreat?
    Into his enemy’s heart he thrusts his sword. Among the blood and gore he may stop to ask, “What am I fighting for?”
    When will this soldier’s tour of duty in Hell end? Only time shall tell…
    Infantry units advance towards the Warrior in endless rows! Are they friend, or are they foe?
    Luck has run out, the Warrior is sure. He faces the threat of the artillery bore.
    Exploding shells give the Warrior Hell. In the ground, they leave crater upon crater.
    Before his eyes his buddy’s skull is shattered. In the realm of battle, one life alone does not matter.
    AK-47s chatter and blood spatters.
    Behind his M-16 the Warrior takes his revenge with all his ire, but the situation is as hopeless as defending against the Ottoman siege of the Byzantine Empire.
    This soldier knows he has not a place to go, but he will meet his end if he does not retreat.
    Looming enemy shadows never cease to issue their threat, so frightful their presence like the Offense of Tet.
    Among the violence and among the hate, his loved ones back home worry about his fate.
    Among the unrelenting machine gun fire, the soldier reflects and the soldier laments. He is at war away from his lover—denied of his greatest desires!
    Over the screams and over the cries, the bombers of the sky’s dark armada fly. Under incendiary bombs, citizens of besieged towns are sure to die.
    Deep in his capital, the enemy fears he is being stalked. Looming near and high, his capital is in the crosshairs of the Nighthawk.
    A hail of bullets and bombs a paradise-turned-nightmare is under. To whole nations the army lays plunder.
    With an age of dictatorial regimes, propaganda, and political rhetoric born, so many peoples are left so forlorn. There is no hope; only tyranny is born.
    No fancy suits and ties or outfits so snappy and wise. The soldier wears only his camouflage disguise. His goal is to avoid an early demise.
    Presidents are elected, and presidents are impeached. Liberty is not born in a mere speech.
    The Warrior has neither his rifle nor his loyal comrades to thank for his survival at the end of the day, but simply God’s will for seeing him through the fray.
    The soldier has danced a soldier’s dance. History records his pensive stance.
    In the end, the soldier never knows for the carnage before him which world leader is at fault.
    All the soldier knows is how to dance the Warrior’s Waltz.
    (The end.....)