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Song of the Voiceless

By Sargunvir Kaur All Rights Reserved ©

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Blurb

All men know of the fateful story of the Troy. A tale of love and war. Where the Greeks reigned triumphant against the burning foundations of Troy. We all know of the great deeds of heroes such as Achilleus and Odysseus. Yet what of those who's fame lasted only a few pages in the pages of history. What of Briseis, a slave to Achilleus? What of Hektor, whom some deem the true hero? What of Patroklos, a lieutenant of Achilleus? And of Helen of Troy, a mere enigma, the face who launched a thousand ships? The tragic lives of these four characters entwine, into a deadly epic that will by sung by men hereafter.

Prologue


I don thine armour, golden and fair

As thy countenance speaks thy words

Thine eyes doth glow, full of fear

But my friend I have already spoke


My brother thou art, in all but blood

Thy winged words cannot hold me

Thy foolish anger turned thee coward

But shadow of thy thunderous bravery


Thine unbridled wrath, and fallible heart,

Defeat doth follows thy heart ensnared

To war I must go, and play my part

As I don thine armour, golden and fair


As thy greaves are placed upon my limbs

A fire doth runs, in this blood of mine

Thou places thy helmet upon my head

Once crowning thy hair so gold and fine


Upon rough black curls, thy helmet now lays

Upon a man less noble than thee

Why dost thou sink as a man so base?

Thou were Son of the Gods, now unworthy


Your hands doth beg, a silent sound

Though thy touch is engraved upon me

I will move the earth, when I find my ground

My brother in war, do not deter me


Thine eyes doth shine, with tears of old

Thy lips doth tremble in cold despair

A parting the fates could not have foretold

I will go with Nike’s shield and trumpet blares


As swords do clash, and gods doth cry

Shadows fall upon thy glinting helmet

For the Daughter of the Apple we all must die

To Hades clutches we all shall plummet


Yet my feet will lead me to the fields war

A mortal man who must hold his sword high

Beauty doth arises, like spring after thaw

All seems beautiful to a man doomed to die


Alas Legends and heroes must set and rise,

Like Apollo’s Sun chariot, bright and aflame,

In between must come the night’s dark skies

As the hero ascends, the heavens learn his name


I set out conquer, under thine armour and form,

My back hath turned, yet my heart lays bare,

Between and before us, roars a mighty storm

Yet I shall don thine armour, golden and fair


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