by Alexis Bertrand

We rise like lions in the climax of the hunt!

The boiling blood, the nostrils thrown wide,

Our claws grip the earth, our tails lash,

We leave nigh a soul but our hot breath

that do ebb and flow from our tired lungs.

Let the sweat and blood that doth drip from quivering limbs

paint portraits of valor across scarred chests and bruised backs.

Let the tongue loll, but let not the head hang,

Throw it high and roar out to the heavens,

roar out mightier than the god that doth clamber

a violent storm above head!

For you and I, brethren, are the new storm,

the new lightning, the new thunder, and we doth cry!

“In the name of the land that assembled mine body and mine soul!

Victory carries us now and forever! And who says not meet my body and my sword!”