The last fall of Sulda

It was dawn unlike any other.
A dawn worthy of centuries.
Like the night that had earlier faced.
The fight of the centuries.

The first ray of light as it fell.
Bellowed and told everyone.
Where it fell blood swayed.
As a legend grew cumbersome.

People will know this forever.
It was on everyone's mind.
At least those that still held breath.
Death has never been kind.

Sulda, lying on his chest grieved.
As he saw the destruction around.
Bodies, flesh seething here, there.
Tears in his eyes grew abound.

Sulda, lied before him, thrashed.
Annihilated, completely lost.
No hope ever died so complete.
He felt numb, sick, aghast.

It was victory yet no joy.
Harun could find no honor.
When grim reaper seem peaced.
He knew it was no valor.

Sulda, lied before him, thrashed.
Annihilated, completely won.
No victory was ever so complete.
Still, happiness he felt none.

Legends will speak of the day.
The day of the last fall of Sulda.
Legends though will omit,
As always, the true pain of Sulda.

Who was happy, satisfied?
These questions lie dead.
Legends have a habit of lying.
Whatever path it treads.

Harun was a hero then, and now.
Sulda became a mere mortal loser.
Immortalized in stone is this fact.
Truth though is no where closer.

It was a dawn of the century.
The sun looked around in horror.
It was a night of hatred.
Painted with blood, shouts, terror.

As Sulda closed his eyes.
As Sulda became a carcass
Harun could not look around.
As he stood there, victorious.