The messenger was grim, sickly boy of youth
His feet bloody, manner hurried, out of breath, short of words
Loudly, he tolled the bell. A sound of terrible alacrity, deadly mourn
‘I bring news, Honor’s dead. I saw him fall.’
Some clasped their mouth in horror, stared transfixed, unbelievingly odd.
Women shook their head, disbelievingly, and muffled a soft sob
‘Cry harder ye wretches! Your proud son is no more.
Honor’s dead! That sweet brave boy, that blundering fool!’
They say he fought valiantly, nobly and honorably too
He fell not to skill, but terrible trickery of men, lesser born
For his prowess, prodigious skill and heart so bold. He fell still
Honor’s dead! The world is doomed
Of the lovely maiden, she cries through blotched eyes.
Her boiling tears, a salty waterfall. She cries for him, and the love he bore.
She stops crying, smiles maliciously in the comfort of another’s warmth.
Honor’s dead and perhaps Loyalty too.
He died, there on the field and in hearts of men he loved
He fell not to blade or hammer but to man’s insatiable lust
He smiled in face of death, when they struck him from behind
Honor’s dead with him Bravery too
They whisper, he knew of the plot and saw it coming too
He welcomed it surely, and the coldness of death too.
Men choose how to live. He choose how to go
By honor, Honor died honorably. While others tarnished their own.
For if there is one thing that honor demands
It is to sacrifice one’s self, dedicated to the codes.
Of Warriors of Light, of Knights Radiant. A farce, a joke.
For Honor lies slaughtered at the feet of Envy, Mirth and Sloth.
For Revenge, she sheds a solemn tear, resting her beloved’s head in her arms.
“My hero, my friend, my liege. I will avenge you. It will be done.”
Though she knows it not, her heart will never be warm again.
Honor’s dead, Love too.
A DESI MUFFIN 