( re-posted for Rev )

Lay on his side

he stole a final breath.

The vibrant gold he once carried

gone. Dulled now by death.

Before he would take flight

on gossamery wings.

No more, he now lilts

in the betweens.

A pursuant soldier,

brave to the last.

One of ten thousand, one of the mass.

A pathetic death at the hands of another.

Lay wretched and broken.

His life is now over.