Untitled Villanelle, draft 1.

Rue the day that it sets, and lay it aside.
We crack this gate too far open, stare into the light.
Here in the echo’s echo, my thoughts collide.

Waiting inside the shadow, a hundred men died.
A hundred swords waited for sunrise to battle the night.
Rue the day that it sets, and lay it aside.

I listened to hush, or silence, my heart still and tired
I needed to hear their horns raised, to herald the light
Here in the echo’s echo, my thoughts collide.

Only one voice broke through to me, and shook as it cried
‘Onward to death!’ And my sword was a terrible sight.
I rue the day that it sets, and lay it aside.

The terrible clash of black steel that silence denied
Illuminated, so briefly, the dead man’s eyes still contrite
Here in the echo’s echo, my thoughts collide.

Sun broke over blood and iron, as if to confide
‘You are the last.’ My spirit refused to ignite, still I
Rue the day that it rests, and lay it aside, for
Here in the echo’ echo, my thoughts collide.