23 June 2012
There was an army, made from clay, In an Emperor's tomb they were buried away. An afterlife's fighting the army did toil, Locked away beneath the soil. A thousand years warring until today, No peace for the men of clay. But even clay must eventually rest, The men of clay that died unblessed. Only one lives to serve their lord, Dust and grime is his reward.
This poem is dedicated to all the men and women of clay out there, silently working without thanks.
Men Of Clay • Opuss № I