• There he stood, a single, solitary warrior
    His blade on his hip and his armor upon his back.
    The wind howled around him billowing his cloak
    As he stood upon the hill crest looking towards the distance.

    There stood an army, an army of a hundred million strong,
    Enough for their arrows to block out the sun if fired.
    An army so large and so grand that no one dared to defy them.
    That is, except for one single solitary man.

    He knew the odds were surely stacked against him
    One against a hundred million, surely he would die.
    But that mattered not to him for the one thing
    That truly mattered was his cause was one worth fighting for.

    He knew in his heart of hearts that even if this field became his grave
    He would have fought with every ounce of strength and courage in him.
    Despite the odds, despite his assurance of death, despite everything
    He still stood upon that hill ready to wage war against the unbeatable army.

    The ground began to shake, the army began to move forward.
    The warrior closed his eyes and pictured his cause.
    A woman with hair of brown and eyes to match.
    A little house set upon a hillside and children’s laughter in the air.

    The warrior took a deep breath and slowly drew his blade
    The afternoon light glinted off the cold steel.
    This would be the instrument to fight for all that mattered to him.
    With his cause in mind and resolve in his heart he charged against the army
    And unleashed a mighty war cry, a cry from the bottom of his heart.

    For that was what he was fighting for.