The battle is over

                       

I am weary,

the battle is over:

We have fought

and not lost

and not won.

 

Only ruins remain

to bear witness

to the tyrannous

things we have

done.

 

Our divisions disperse

through the rubble,

raising dust

that obscures

the sun,

 

While we look on

the days we have

wasted

on a quarrel remembered

by none.

 

Friend and foe,

let us go

to the fireside

where tales and lies

are spun,

and recall

all the glories of battle,

how we fought -

and how each of us

won.