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The difference between gods and men
is that they do not understand
why we have learned to die.
The prince, son of a goddess,
was born into his destiny,
taught that heroes do not have happy ends
and warriors do not have room for love.
As The Fates would have it,
he fell fast and hard
for a quiet soul, too soft
for the bite of bronze
and the hunger of the war to which he was bound,
so the prince took up a spear
and followed the promise of glory and death
across the sea.
The war was long
but they spent their nights
forgetting bloodshed in favor of
pale sands under moonlight.
The rough palms of a fighter
clasped a healer’s hands
and the two grew old on the battlefield,
or as old as the sunlight would let him.
It bathed him golden in his conquests,
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