The ever growing enemy

Time amiss and a shallow sun
A freedom in the sweat of my brow
Blood beneath the tips of my fingers
The land a blade to my flesh

A burning and yearning for rest
A knowledge that my work is not yet finished
A shallow sun beyond the hills
Night comes on

The wind blows in the valley
The clouds cross the mountains
I rest in peace away from war
My enemy tilled and parted

In the morning I rise
Returning to the field of battle
Weapons in hand and blood anew on my fingers
Time amiss and a shallow sun