There is a man who walks this world alone
Warmed by the blaze of his convictions
He wanders aimlessly from home to home
Heart conforming to the new restrictions

Wearing years of service, his haggard brow
Is creased with the tales of battles gone
Without a cause, he fights aside them now
As thoughts of purpose bid him soldier on

Setting flame to bridges far behind
He merely does as those he follows do
And lets fanatic notions fill his mind
Until at last he wanders home anew

But absolution from his past mistakes
Lies not amid the wreckage in his wake

Penned by my hand on the 6th of Glacian, in the year 794 AF.