“My life-blood is shed, steel painted red. A thousand men beat raven’s fast fed. And so the veil falls, revealing walls, of cavernous halls. Valhalla calls. The fighting is done, feasting begun. A saga well spun, of battles won.” – Ian F White

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I regret to inform you, that the restitution of an embattled soldier is met in a moment that certainly will ‘redefine’ rather than ‘relieve’ ..the opponent’s spirit within their imposition. The instance of so where a fighter stops fighting, is only in the margins of forgotten passing and is only settled for the narrative of those choosing to, persuade a trying forgiveness into the said-lives, umm *maybe* said, “itives.” It is only recently, that I saw a brother of arms and in observing the stress becoming to seethe the truth in our bond, I at once, left him that day and thought, “Valhalla, friend.”

Forever is as forever lasts, and for all those who enter they must remain. Hence, in its clarity Valhalla is for the granted. As an explorer or trailblazer, the coming of a kind of prosperity is befit with the obstacles or complications that inevitably contain the satisfactions of their overcoming. Though, in the trying and failing those warriors must come face to face with the yet conquered blocks of ‘enemies’ amidst their ‘land’–hectic our realization to those villain plan.

The enamored love of its FIGHT, the purpose of its end, the tests that are only SPOKEN when’t statutes shine their reprimand. To end each your surrender and be evermore present with the battlefields of wartime progress.. ‘ll only position a heaven that encapsulates A perfection OF an state that a fighter adjoins step-by-step, in order to be BOTH at wits end & at the mindset’s selfless beginning, again.