The Standard Bearer
White-hot light streamed across the cerulean sky
As the first gunshot rang through the air,
Spattering crimson gore over his face.
The man beside him fell forward
Without a sound,
But the standard bearer shed not a tear,
Though the last drop of life from his childhood friend
Now adorned his hardened visage.
An explosion called out behind him as he charged;
Along with the screams of other companions
Came a cloud of white earth,
His earth,
His land,
The land that had always been home,
And he waved his banner and surged forward.
His was a suicide mission;
He had no weapon, no means of defense.
He simply led the others
And displayed their colors,
Ready to die for that which was theirs.
A pain burst through his thigh,
And he felt warm red life seeping from the wound.
He faltered.
Stumbled.
Fell.
And as his vision was flooded by a pure blue sea,
He recalled the rattlesnake ready to strike,
And charged once more.
Life was no consequence to the standard bearer,
And it poured from him in red rivers,
More than he could count.
His goal in sight,
Freedom from this mortal realm,
No life left to give,
For it was all in sanguine puddles on his earth,
The standard bearer pitched forward
And slammed his burden to that earth.
The shaft rigid, erect;
The banner still flying for his friends to see�
He remembered the day they handed out the guns,
The day he chose the flag,
By which he would always live�
A smile fell o�er his scarlet lips
And he saw stars twinkling in the bright blue sea
That moved to drown him.
The white-hot light grew brighter.
And when at last the field was theirs,
They pulled the standard from his unfeeling hands
And waved it high for all the world to behold.
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