Victory Feast

Battlefield strewn with past hope; corpses rotting; wafting out the streams of putrid corruption.
Scenes not unlike the ones before.
The past brought into full recollection for those who had survived past renditions,
only,
this time,
no one,
not one warrior survived.

War machines wound down as their energy sources depleted.
The winds changed, bringing fresh smells to replace foulness bubbling into the atmosphere.
Clothing on the participants still gleaming with rank and insignia,
while in the distance smoke, ever the battle smoke, sought escape from such an arena.

Quiet now this moment in time,
quiet with no thoughts of glory or regret,
quiet with nothing but what one would hear on any given normal day,
quiet in sound but not in movement...

A new attack.
A new army.
Not reinforcemnets as there were no longer any or any need of those as that moment had passed.
Rather,
an army hungry and whose survival depended on this new moment and what would also be the last moment,
the last battle,
as the insects poured forth from the seems in the broken planet,
surging forward to devour,
to conquer,
to eat,
and then they too,
will fade away into quiet.

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