Beginnings...

The field was cold, not barren yet,
But cold still,
A slight frost, not morbid,
Gleaming, almost cheerful,
As the Sun peeked beyond,
Melting, gently,
Revelling in the warmth,
Soaking the ground below.

Ordinary, this was not,
A blood thirsty monster by the day,
Sorrowful yet patient beast by night,
This was a battlefield,
It sought conflict,
Turmoil, havoc, chaos,
Erratic yet strong its pulse ran,
Brief unwanted breaks, relentless.

But the field was not bad,
Not in the least,
Brutal yes, but never evil,
It was fair, honest always,
Men, women, all beings alike,
All with a story, all with a mark,
And one in them,
Greater than all.

A being, a purpose singular,
Driven to start it all,
Start it all again,
Again after the end,
An end that seemed befitting,
Befitting a system past,
Past its prime, a shadow,
A shadow, putrid and vile.