Up, up, the steps of heaven he ascends,
On horses clothed in white skinned wings,
And through the smoke, bleeds and bends,
The world each warrior knows and sees.

Yet he dances not for chieftain’s whim,
Nor the souls of sons, nor women’s song,
He travels to find the wind’s last hymn -
He travels to find the truth beyond.

And lo, from his dance and times bygone,
The answer quakes from heaven’s shore:
“Though fight is won, keep bows drawn,
For peace is but time between wars.”