Battlefields Eternal

Thrice I have been threatened by failed attempts to fly,
But they could not escape me - an event horizon...
Not until I had discharged myself from their payload.

From across the space that I waited,
I took witness to the truthfulness of it.
Between all the silvery machines and off white monitors,
From whence all salvation is administered,
Surely such a Room is desperate when empty - an Emergency indeed.

Entire fleets release their payloads.
Paratroopers we are,
Landing amidst these windy brittle months.

We ready our rifles and worn leather satchels and march.
March forth on the grounds of compulsion constructed,
But through the space between two snowflakes, my reticle falls,
Upon a friend in familiar palm trees basking amidst rays once mine.
His time will come - all is fair in war and it - the Astrologer is wise.

Surely these darkened valleys we march through,
These have always been on the map,
And their conquest is redundant as star circles.

A fact - you will always be alive on these battlefields eternal - the Astrologer does not repent.