The soldiers heart


To stride along the path

Which an empty heart resides

The soldier marches on

With No map, he cannot find


No voice to guide his way

Or give him peace of mind

Grant him easy slumber

For his heart he cannot find


For is he naught but soldier?

Orders he must take

Rend apart his foe

Is that his only fate?


She asked him, "Who is machine?"

A question he cannot define

It burns upon his soul

An answer he must divine


Thrown into bloody conflict

This Demon they all fear

The Spartan marches on

His path, so unclear


She gave him hope where none was found

This woman who touched his heart

Lost in battle, mind unbound

Rescued, He stands apart


Last He stands, of Spartans tall

Long winter almost near

The old soldier carries on

Before he disappears


His life is now a limbo

Purgatory and hell for him

His life can never end

Until his answers win


But He searches on eternal

Forgotten hope, in-between

To Wander forevermore

This man,

Spartan, John, one-seventeen.