He Rose to His Feet and Still Asked for Help

His eyes struggled open the dirt and sweat had sealed them up dry.  He had been uncunceous for quiet some time. His face was on the hard qravel floor of the earth he looked up to see the piercing white light that burned his eyes. He let it rest upon his brow, for though it burned it was a sign of life a thing of beauty peace and hope. For with the sun came life.

    He rose to his feet, that was most painful. His hand rested on his face, the air cold very cold. There was a very welcome breeze upon his face that felt dead or a thousand ages.He closed his eyes and stood still and silent as the wind ran through his hair.

   He found that his limbs where not yet awake and found it a chore to walk. It took along time but at last he was walking as he did once before.

   He looked around at the sight before him ,"help" his lips formed a whisper. Many lay upon the ground . Friend, enemy it did not matter, it was all sadness after the battle. The battle that had no right!