I Am Not The Name This Body Has Been Assigned

I am not the name this body has been assigned-
I have lived under many a sky when the stars were differently aligned-

Bore the names of many faces of many different places and time-
From the fall of Persia and Rome to witnessing the pissing in the Rhine-

But that which I am, the me inside-
Has always lived on when the two legged animal died-

Return to home port, after action reports and lessons learned-
A bit of rest before my energy, my Soul is returned-

To the age old animosity, that continuous fight-
Between the twin brothers of wrong and right-

A new name, a new body, a new time of the ages-
Marching through history, as one in a good book turns the pages-

I have always been me, the Beast, the Priest, the Warrior Poet king-
The hands have shed much blood and borne many a different crested signet ring-

I have been the jester on the blood soaked fields of death-
Joking with my men midst the stench as the enemy wounded drew a last ragged breath-

I have been the sacrifice made by the jackals to their gods of evil-
Been accused by inapt pencil pushing ass kissers of being medieval-

Each life I am handed the script of my duty to the Source-
My life follows the plan like melting snow follows the predestined water course-

Of the river banks cut by countless flood of yesteryear-
So my Soul after each campaign returns to that place so dear-

Reunion with those of my clan, those steel eyed belted Viking Men-
After action reports, lessons learned, a bit of rest and then, deployment again!

The Ole Dog!

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