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Bucephalus

You are a giant

Among your kind,

An emperor and leader.

You strode into each Battle,

A canon of 

Flame and ash

Dancing above

Your brow like a crown.

Your hair 

Braided with wind

And olive leaves

Beats a pattern

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In the air 

Like a black flag,

A warning sign.

But you could only

Be tamed once.

Death will not be second

To the boy child,

A son of Apollo,

Who claimed your soul

Because his faith

Weakened your Barricades.

You carry the prize,

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The winnings from

A war well fought

That claimed casualties On both sides,

Only to draw.

At close of day

Your two spirits Intertwined

Into one being,

One ruler,

A machine of war 

Dominating those Weaker 

Than you.

Your eyes burn

With the embers

Of fallen empires,

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Altered states.

You bear the weight of 

The mighty

With your burnt flesh

And purple blood,

The color of nobility;

The flags of your home.

You’ll be resurrected

To stone.

And memories

Of your loyalty

Will linger like smoke

On the dark streets of 

A city

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That bears your name.

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