The Army of Souls

There are two armies on the field,
One is black and one is white,
They fight on madly, frantically,
In the quickly fading light.

Then suddenly the battle ends,
There is no-one left with breath,
They've all succumbed, in fighting,
To a second and more horrible death.

I come across a body, white,
Dead and bleeding in the night,
And on the ground there is another
Its face drawn tight in tortured slumber.

I'm frightened now and all alone,
The silence deafening to my mind,
The darkness covers all my world,
The blackness where I'm now confined.

Now I see a body, black,
With a long knife in its back,
Lying on a body, white,
Both are buried in the night.

I bend and take the white one's head,
And see that it is not yet dead,
From within there shines a light,
That makes the coloured body white.

I look to see the body, black,
It is dead, its features slack.
I look and see that black it's not,
It is a soul consumed in rot.

Author's note:  This is not about black and white as it pertains to people.   Those who have racist sensitivities tend to jump to that conclusion.   It is about lightness and darkness as it pertains to the spirit or the soul.