Prose: As he stood on the battlefield

A tribute to a soldier:

"...
As he stood on the battlefield;

The setting sun in the color of blood
stretched his shadow over the land,
A ghost he could not shake.

The dead screamed in silence.
A deafening plea of deliverance
Unsung, Unheard
And Unanswered

Scattered Shield, Sword
And Lance
Pleading, Peeking
And Seething

A tall figure,
The last survivor,
And The final Victor
Triumphed, Cheered
And Echoed against emptiness.

As he stood there,
With his own shadow like a ghost
Bathed in the Bloody Sun,
Deafened by the Screaming Silence,
He truly was unrivaled, matchless,
And Alone.

This prose is inspired by a poster on a forum who seemed to be very passionate about his own ideas and defended vigorously, without actually hearing what others were trying to say. At the end of the day, everybody just stopped talking about the idea.