With veins full of Spartan blood,
And the trusted brother; the sword,
With a handful 300 who demons fought,
He took on the onus of Spartans existence.
Standing to an implicit colonial era,
He pointed into the face of the
Self proclaimed man-god, Xerxes.
Explicitly establishing his stand
Mind free of power (which was his),
He contrived through the clashes of
Spears, facing creatures ferocious
With might courageous, and raging bravery,
He fought without a moment's sigh.
But when Fate's book was to close,
Surrounded by 'friends' he boasted his last,
Having divided the mouth of that
Ghastly Xerxes with a fly short of
Archery, then he obliged to death's call,
Being pierced in multi-parts by darts
And arrows that blotted out the sun,
He left his name printed in cold gold
Heroism within the pages of Greek history.
Images source:www.pixabay.com
