Waiting for the eastern Wind

The war sung a hopeless cry, drums beat a hollow wind.  Our men never meant to sigh. Fought their war like a thousand year rhyme.  The fleets of ships floated on the giant sea, rocking by the calm slight waves, waiting to be sunk into sea. The heavens guard its eye, bright morning to the late cold nights. White doves dominate the skies, a sign of many lives to die. The numbers struck awe by the horizon, everything was prepared, all planned out. Just waiting for the eastern wind to make it all happen. ...