Dylan Long
At the Edge of Hell: 73 Easting
Across the desert’s endless glare,
Where sand and sky are stitched as one,
The metal lines of Armor cut through the sky
Steel stallions striding to death in search of glory
The wind holds whispers of war and attrition,
A desert storm on the doorstep of Hell’s mileless inferno.
Through the ghostly glare of Lucifer's gaze emerges the titans.
They charged the valley of death, destiny looming from above.
Thunder thrashed from the titans might,
Tracks tattooed truth across the desert dunes.
In moments as sharp as shattered stained glass,
The battle’s fury blasted its thin tethered chain.
Against the horizon, barrels flames flashing with fury,
Courage sparked in conscious moments of doubt and unknown
A clash of will, of grit, of survival spilling on to the barren battlefield
Etched deep upon the scorched sand are the remains of a history.
And when the smoke had thinned at last, the roars of the giants softened
The desert kept what war revealed: skeletons of iron giants frozen in time.
Their valor, tested, never more evident, destruction echoes the battlefield.
The soldiers of tomorrow will learn of their pain, a scene edged in history.
O’ 7-3 Easting the line of no return, where titans rot and rust.
Amid the carnage of the sand matted metal graveyard laid echoes
Steel Stallions forged in desert storms stand tall rolling and roaring
Defiant in the dusk, bearing the breath of battle, carved in grit and dust.