My soldiers are rushing to the frontline, explosions all around, some will live, some will die. The Queen of Battle watches silently, they move like chess pieces in the drizzle and rain, the assassins wait, perched like hawks, the micro-tech and nanobots are dispersed from their mechanical hives, it's a blitz, unexpected, and bold, the screaming begins, the gates of Hell have been opened, there are blood fountains spewing tall as buildings, and white smoke, the battlefield will be left in blackened ashes, dead trees, and torn, stripped bodies scattered like old, dead, fish.
Dawn arrives, tongue out, human form, there is a stench, a bitter, burning in the cloudy eyes, my bloodred clay, stabbed holes, and the perfectly severed heads look like growing melons among the rolling hills, and how love has arrived.
God spake, I see the ugly-beaked birds circling in the sky above, a holocaust, this planned massacre, to them, it is a feast of their feathers, bone and grisly red meat, suspicious black eyes, soundless as they walk, and see my words in the clay that cannot be erased.
A pale horse steps on the rocks, and the tortured landscape dissolves behind us, on to the next, the stiff stare of death, she has arrived, she is death, I am death.