The Three Riders, the citizen, the warrior and the Killer

These three die the same 

 But only one can be immortal.

 All three run to their deaths 

 But only two can run to Calvary.

 We sing sad songs 

 We feel sorrow

 And we remember them 

The first we mourn the Lost dead son 

 The second we hail the Victorious dead!

 The last we curse, the murderer.

These are the ways to be a fighter

 We have a million names for them all, the same type of men and women:

Soldier, Knight, Samurai, Spearman

 The Minuteman, the Ronin, the janissary

There a Thousand stories 

across all the seven seas 

 all the lands the sun Graces.

They are bloody, beautiful and fill the heart with woe yet there is a harmony.

Good men and devils 

 Bad men and gods

These stories are the wisdom of the Children of Men 

To be a citizen is to be of Rome, Jerusalem, and Camelot!

Farmer, blacksmith or boy called to fight 

Because he loves what he leaves.

 He hears the call of the horn which calls him: to fight, to die or to stand a man for only a moment in which God Alone will see.

 They died heeding the call of The Once and Future King.

 These were David’s Mighty Men 

 The friends of Hector 

 The legions of Scipio and Horatius

 The Lakota, Cheyenne, Pueblo and Mono

All those who died to keep Home Free

They left their bones far from home in strange lands and foreign Seas.

 In Wars futile and wise 

 Remembered and forgotten.

 Witness us! That is what they demand.

His Creed: my life for yours

 Remember Elah where David won.

Look at Hector’s firey pyre and why he died.

Remember the allies of lights when you are in darkness.

 The heroes who are men.

The warrior like Achilles is blessed and cursed! 

arrogant and doomed

 Brooding in his tent while better men die

 Remember David decapitating Goliath with his own sword!

 The Warriors flawed but he has his day 

He is fearless in battle 

 Praying every moment like a boy 

 Cursing gods and his creator 

He tastes the Divine in His Wrath

He may sing praises in the glory or in the ashes 

He is like the Crusader 

 Richard, Raymond, Godfrey

He has many faces and many victories 

 Because he believes and knows what he is doing.

 He declares things he does not understand 

 God’s will 

 The ways of the heart 

 The old stories 

 The warrior loves War, it is a part of him

 The worst thing is he understands it 

 That is the part of hell he takes upon himself 

He knows the fragility of living because he makes his way among the Dead

He even loves or hates his maker for the same reason,

 for his life is a blessing or a curse but he decides.

He does not know peace in this life you can only await it in the next

The last is the walking shadow 

A careless soul becoming a beast 

They bear The Mark of Cain the one for those who have murdered 

They are those who chose in Oblivion for their hearts

 They’ve killed the world like Romans falling on their swords
 The embrace the darkness the Doom that comes against them 

 They are blood and dust for they have  fallen into smoke and Shadow

The Walking Dead, the workers of iniquity and the Bloody men.

Saul who murdered himself 

 Agamemnon ended by Follies blade 

They are Long Knives, Death’s Heads and baying Hounds

Who try to murder the world 

 We know their names because we still feel the pain they caused 




There’s a long list of villains all to be eventually forgotten

 By the grace of God this will happen soon 

Be warned those who go to war 

 To remember the old stories in the old books 

 We have yet to learn all blessings 

These lessons are our only warnings 

 The rest is up to you


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