The Samurai
Once the great shores,
were guarded and protected,
by warriors fierce and strong.
Adorned, these were
by mantles of fine armor,
with helmets set upon their brow.

No more are these shores watched,
by those unflagging sentinels.
Their bodies have returned,
to the sand,
from whence they came.
Their people now fall to shadow,
with no guardian remaining.

But in the moonlight,
upon the sand,
comes to shore,
the embodiment of their spirit.
Waves billow, and on them ride,
those helmets that once adorned the brow,
of warriors of old.
The souls are in these creatures,
of those fierce and strong.
And in each drop of blood they give,
their people go on.