Epitaph

 

The Captain in his valor leapt
Alight in passion, sword in hand
To lead the final victor’s charge
And drive the heathen from the land

Into the cannonade of iron
Pounding men in mired mud,
Only proved the hero’s mission
Wrought of heaven, heart and blood

With every volley raining down
Into the fray and wretched plain,
Half-blinded by the smoke and sting,
Undaunted, charged he through the pain

“Tarry, sir, your gait unmeasured,
Brings the men unto their last.
Thus far into the burning tempest,
We have followed hard and fast.”

But without care for cautious counsel,
Spurning wisdom from the rank,
With the ancient mark of hubris,
Courage, into madness, sank

All strategy unto the wind,
Form and tactic torn asunder,
Stood the Captain, lone and brave,
Defiant to the crashing thunder

Facing now the darkened storm,
Deaf to Reason, blind to Fate,
The Captain raised his valiant sword
And charged, alone, into the strait

No man could hold him as he flew
To run headstrong into his foe,
And only heard, in quiet hush,
His epitaph: “Let him go.”