A conversation in the storm between Alexander and Synthia

Alexander:-

The autumn came early this year,

It has now destroyed the atmosphere.

The breeze that touches us,

And gave calm as it passes us,

Has now turned into a wind,

Stronger than I have ever seen.

We will be lost if we stand alone,

But then pride,

Our pride has ever grown,

I refuse to hold thee,

Even though thy arm is stretched,

While the other clings to a tree.

I am sorry my love,

But this seems so wrong,

I want to hold thee firm,

And let this storm pass on.

But somewhere deep down,

Something stops me,

I am unable to move,

And hence unable to grab thee.

My face seems to have lost its humanity,

My eyes seems to have gone dark,

My mind, and I assure thee is now corrupt.

I have faced many disasters,

But not sure I shall regret this one lesser than all,

I have let pride win,

And hence have committed one of the deadliest sins.

So my love,

Save yourself I say,

Let me go,

And now you need to hold on,

To that tree of hope,

As I am carried off with this cold wind That feels so coarse.

Synthia:-

How dare thee,

How dare thee lose now,

After all that we have faced,

How dare thee give up now.

I have been by thee side too long,

Too long to abandon thee now,

Either thy lives with me,

Or I lose with thee.

This wind, this wind is nothing,

Compared to what I want to face with thee,

If thee prideful man,

If thee boastful man,

Dies due to a simple wind,

Thy should be ashamed,

And thy honour should be thrown as a dirty rag.

Why does thy soul seem to lose control with it's body?

Why hast thee let tis wind overcome thee?

Rise I say now,

And hold tis hand that I give,

Let's hold on to hope,

And let the storm pass by,

And give us back our bliss.

Alexander:-

Thine words seem to charm me,

Thine eyes drive me to pity,

But yes I do not want to humiliate thee,

I love thee more than thy knows't,

But tis love ain't enough,

To make me forget that I have lost,

To such a small wind.

My honour you speak of,

My pride you tell me,

All have already been lost,

And badder still,

It has been burned,

All remains is ashes,

And even a rag like honour feels like a luxury,

In this hour of great deed.

I know thee loves me,

I know thee cares,

But it would always haunt me,

To never before had cared,

So let me be,

And let me die in tis hour where,

I seem to care more,

Than my very power.

Synthia:-

Ashes dear,

Everything in time turn to ashes,

Doesn't mean we don't care,

Let the ashes go my love,

If thine glorious flag of honour,

Has turned and met the soil,

Don't worry my love,

In time I will sew you an even mightier one,

But now, now all you need to do

Is hold my hand,

We need to live to be able to do all we want,

The other day.

Alexander:-

Oh why do thee still persist the idea of winning,

Can't thee see that I have lost?

A feeble wind and a blinding fog,

That was an issue but that was not all

But I didn't really care about it till now,

I moved everything far away,

From the sandy beaches of Nostrum,

That say dare I, is ours to stay.

The thunder did strike,

And the wind had blown,

Carrying with it all the heavy dew,

We couldn't see far,

But we knew,

That the enemy was there for us too.

Out of the shadows loomed a figure,

Mighty big and scarier in this weather,

Monsters we saw,

Creatures we fought,

Animals that we had never before had thought.

And as my brave men,

Went to face their doom,

In the fields that sounded like boons,

Fields never heard before,

But shall be remembered ever more,

The blood that spilled,

All soaked the soil,

And the plants there,

Drank heartedly from our sacrifice.

How then can I miss,

How then can I come back?

How can this shame that I have seen,

How can it be washed with my sin.

The blood on my hands,

How can I ever forgive me,

For killing young men,

If not directly,

But by the act of sheer folly.

We have lost with this wind,

And now it comes at us with even a greater speed,

All hope it seems is lost,

And now there is nothing ahead but defeat,

Don't stop me now,

Let me go,

For I have sins that I have to answer for.

Synthia:-

Defeat?

Defeat is when you admit it,

When you truly embrace it,

Or even with the last man,

You still hope for victory.

Defeat?

How can a mere folly spoil all that you have done?

How can a mere push,

Stop the stubborn man I love?

Don't thee dare forget that,

Thee answers only to gods,

And they don't like people who embrace defeat with open arms,

But they shall reward with Elysium,

Those who have fought till their last words.

Now hold my hand now me thinks,

Mine arm is slipping,

And I can't stay long if I keep doing this,

Hold my hand now,

We need to go,

Before the rest of the winds come to the show.

Don't look away again Mr,

I have not screamed here so that I see thee go,

If thy loses thine foothold on this Earth that is there

I swear I shall no longer cling this tree as well,

I swear I shall allow myself to be swept away by the current of disasters.

Where did thy oath go?

The oath that thou had given to me,

The oath that spoke that thee would stay,

That mine world would always,

Be a part of thee,

And that thy would be there for me,

Even in the darkest hour of three days,

I have kept my oath it seems,

But thy is willing to go and break it,

The oath that we made under the sacred olive tree,

Witnessed by the gods,

Above all even the golden three.

Now thee backs,

Like a rat,

Slithering away,

When it started to get bad.

Where did thy promise go?

Thy had told me thy would make a home,

Near the mountains,

And near the shore,

An island somewhere,

And that no one will know.

Thy had told me that we shall live,

And that we shall be oblivious to the politics,

That shall still exist everywhere,

But our home.

Now why does thee deny all this?

Why does thee let a simple defeat,

Destroy what we have helped build,

Not only us but our ancestors for eternity,

How can thee let a barbarian,

Over rule thee?

Now is not the time to mourn,

Now is the time to fight,

If thee stops now,

The enemy shall surely claim their prize.

Alexander:-

I think thou has spoken right,

And that mine world shall not be shattered completely without my complete sacrifice,

And that my defeat shall not be taken as a sign of weakness,

But as a sign of learning,

Thee has spoken right,

And a barbarian can never win us,

With a real fight.

~fin

The Dead revolutionary