He Lay Cloaked in Dirt

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He lay cloaked in dirt and sweat,
A lift of the arm was all he had left,
Down with a puff of dusty earth smacked his hand,
His flame had vanquished and defeat was near arrival.

As numerous thoughts of failure entered his mind,
There was the reminder of what he saw,
What he noticed on every man’s face when they took their last breath,
He decided that he would not have that, not now,

He struggled up to his feet barely grasping balance,
Then he pounced,
He took his sword and with that blow he rejected death,
And accepted freedom.





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