Soldiers of the Sky

Scurrying across the virgin sky,

they hurry to fill their positions.

Like fresh soldiers:

too young to contemplate their fate,

wantonly eager to accommodate their master.

Consuming all in their path,

they are filled with strength and corruption.

Seasoned and rich,

they are prepared for the chosen task,

blissfully ignorant of their long appointed fate.

Greeting the day of their calling,

on the battlefield gloriously arrayed:

yellows to deep reds.

Brilliant egos of foreshadowed destruction,

a fair warning to those who are watching.

Darkening, attack is announced.

Unharnessed, allies sweep in with great sound.

In perfect time

they boil with the venom they have gathered,

marching in seething rows of exquisite blackness.

Burgeoning beasts of prestige,

upon their world they reign devastation

with little thought

to the morrow of their actions

until they have spent the last drop of their pride.