“Unus sed leo”

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The tide is coming,
like a wall of hatred and fear,
and he braces himself,
preparing for the battle,
that is before him.

His back agaist the wall,
shielding his son and wife,
he clenches his jaws shut,
his heels dug in deep in the ground,
a low growl deep in his throat.

Today he is not a man,
today he forsake all sanity,
today he will bleed,
today he will suffer and die.

The faceless horde closes in,
he raises his sword in a salute,
“Morituri te salutant” he whisper silently,
and let the blade fall,
“We who will die salute you”…

The battle is long and fierce,
the pain intense and endless,
the blood is hot and crimson red,
the anger glowing in dying eyes,
then it stop.

The silence is deafening,
he look up and find the faces,
of his wife and son,
they are both safe above.

He let his blade fall,
on bloody ground.
he fall down on his knees,
weak from his wounds,
smiling over his victory,

His laughter is soft,
yet his wife and son,
can hear his words clearly,
before he fall.

“Unus sed Leo”,
One, but a lion.

So he lived,
so he died,
so he will be remembered.

Requiescat in pace.

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