Whilst riding in chariots of victory,
Decorated with white flowers,
They fought valiantly,
And resembled the Gods of War.
The sheer strength of their will,
Had made them blind.
For only the honour of their mother,
Reigned their minds.
And the legendary endeavor,
Absolved many of their sins.
Creating a saga,
That would never be forgotten.
Soon victory came running to them,
But the price they paid was forseen by none.
For who knew God had decided a strife,
Assuring success in return for their life.
And the dreadful moment too arrived,
Filling redness in everything that silently thrived.
The beautiful doves,
Started a voyage of their own,
Flocking the sky that weeped above.
And the heavens too unlocked
The gates of gloom,
And unleashed showers,
That kissed the gallent warriors.
Though smiling now,
They lie cold and still.
Embracing the warmth of their patriotism and thrill.
But their magnanimity shall never cease
To inspire others.
And it would be awe and love,
Their glorious story shall always stir.
For Angels of Peace,
They were called.
And Angels of Peace,
They will be called.