The King’s army, as cold as ice and violent as thunderstorms
Marching from the valley civilizations.
To conquer the lands of the gentle breeze and shallow waters
The drizzles and puddles of water cannot stop them as from within,
Their hearts are etched with the vigor of a waterfall.
They carry the treasures of blessed rainfall and frolic in riverbanks nearby
Their tears are the drops in an ocean as they forgot what their home in the sky, clouds, and beyond look like.
The home was the dewdrops that filled their parched lips
The victory was the rainfall that graced their battle
They sought after the glacier-covered mountains for a sojourn after their long journey throughout each valley
The villagers caught a whiff of the vapors crying out war in the air
The terrible war splattered and gushed out a pool of blood and bodies
The drought and dry winds followed as the great war ended.
Then came the drops of acid that washed the stench of the dead
Whirlpools, hailstones, and the thundering wrath of God began to
End the ancient fable.
The glacial warriors melted to form the youth of tomorrow
With the vigor and valor of the roaring seas, they flow down as
The path guides them.
Hardened by ice and as continuous as a stream,
They march to confront the ocean
This is the war of Adam’s ale and the perennial sources
That flows into their mother,
For the life that never ends.