Fatigue

Oh so fast night reaches,
That the morning passes like the fleeting wind,
A fore a dusty bed one reaches,
Falling upon it like life itself has ended.

Where art the rest of heaven promised to weary souls,
Where art the spirit of soaring eagles promised?
Crawling upon the ground of an unknown destiny,
Wondering if it is all a vanity.

Weary from battle the lone warrior says,
Is this all worth the honor I stood for?
Allowing his sword to slip from his very hands,
Falling back and into the arms of fate his body pour.