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November 22nd, 2015 
Awake Goy The soldier’s face grew ashen,
His comrade seemed asleep,
He stooped to soothe the stricken youth,
Beside the upturned jeep,
The moon forever fickle,
Twixt cloud and starry sky,
Remained unmoved, uncaring,
Of death and comrades’ cry.
Mud forever giving ‘neath,
The soldiers’ boots and steel,
Embalmed the dying youngster,
Of broken limbs and weal,
His comrade grieved and broken,
With gentle whispered prayer,
Ran muddied fingers softly,
Through his comrade’s tousled hair.
The scene that set was ghastly,
Of broken trees and mud,
A curse, a cry, then shell fire,
Such broken bones and blood!
The dying youth’s eyes opened,
With almost lifeless stare,
With weary smile he greeted,
His comrade’s head was bare.
“The Valkyries, they’re coming.
They ride beyond the moon.
I see their steeds, the maidens.
They’re coming for me soon.”
Hope filled the dying soldier,
His comrade turned to weep,
The Nordic gods had summoned,
Their young hero to the keep.
His trooper friend was grieving,
So filled with hopeful prayer,
He raised his eyes to follow,
A young comrade’s dying stare.
Of myths the sky was naked,
No Valkyries ~ no steeds,
The ancient gods were vanquished,
As were their old time deeds.
But he was still yet mortal,
And so the truth denied,
Fallen heroes only,
Shall meet their Nordic bride.
The dying youth saw clearly,
Those maidens in the sky,
Upon their brave white stallions,
Borne to those who die.
Borne to brave young soldiers,
Whose life rewards forgo,
Who give their lives, all they have,
When pitted ‘gainst the foe.
His comrade’s eyes grew brighter,
The Valkyries drew near,
Flaxen maids of beauty,
With their shield and silver spear.
A grey-eyed maid dismounted,
Her weapons put aside,
Melting in her warm embrace,
He’d found at last his bride.
With tender care she lifted,
A fighter born to die,
And in her arms upon the steed,
Two journeyed through the sky.
They sometime reached Valhalla,
The Hall of Odin’s reign,
Thatched with shields and walls of spears,
To welcome Europe’s slain.
With fond farewell the maiden bid,
The fallen youth goodbye,
Then carried on her acts of love,
Across the war gods’ sky.
Filled with renewed vigor,
His body whole again,
He stepped inside the mighty hall,
The home of all the slain.
In comradeship partaken,
With milk from goat Heidrun,
Valhalla and God Odin,
Embraced another son.
Daily they did battle,
For Ragnarok to train,
For in the Armageddon,
The victors are the slain.
The world of mortal combat,
Still raged its deathly course,
Where by a broken body,
Bowed a comrade in remorse,
This soldier wept quite openly,
With crucifix of wood,
He stood it by the open grave,
Then silently he stood.
The squaddie picked the helmet,
Once worn by his great loss,
He wiped it free of blood and mud,
Then he hung it on the cross.
Source Article from http://renegadetribune.com/the-valkyries/
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