All things in life can be art when viewed from a fresh perspective...
The black shadow raced up into the air,
Elegantly flowing freely like water into a high arc,
Its beautiful whistle sounding the downbeat as, like a wave, it crashed down,
A blanket of arrows piercing flesh and bone as they end their fateful flight,
The symphony of battle has begun.
The percussion of steel beaten on wooden shields fills the air,
Building up a frantic crescendo of sight and sound,
The maestros waving their war time cheironomy,
Building a perfect legato as their troops take the stage,
An in-tune orchestration essential to their survival.
The chorus sounds when steel meets flesh,
Full bodied vocals filled with emotion dance out above the sounds of the instruments,
The passionate instrumental turned into a wondrous elegy,
Every man sounding his pitched lament,
War always provides its own soundtrack.
The frenzy of sound builds as each man plays his part in the production,
The frantic gesturing of their maestros spurring them on to perform on cue,
The level of noise dying down as only the most skilled of the ensemble are left to play,
Their precision and skill sounded across a muted landscape,
Wagner himself would be proud.
As each man takes his final bow, the victors raise up one last cry,
Their performance executed to perfection,
Their production to be the only one repeated,
The songs of the victors to be remembered for all time,
History holds no songs for the conquered.