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.