A second coming

He fled the land retreating for all he had worth in his legs,
and returned to that of his ancestors.
War had ravaged the foreign lanscape along with his company.
All he knew was the necessity to make it back alive
to the motherland, along with those he knew.

An entire nation of those that never strayed far from home.
He loved this land and it loved him, everything was exactly as he left it.
There were some new buildings and fewer familiar faces,
but he knew he was home.
Upon his return he was greeted as a king,
but soon his hero's welcome lost luster and everything fell back into routine,
it was no longer a time of war abroad, but of peace in his own country.

And after time he began to despise things about it,
things he had loved since childhood.
Stagnation wore on his heart, and he felt the warm sun on his skin
even though it was cloudy and raining where he stood.
The sun seemed duller and the wind felt stronger on his face.
He soon found that the professionals here
were anything but,
and those training to be professionals were content to be the second best.
Those with talent in this town never took it anywhere,

only those that really dreamed, were motivated to accomplish their best,
and their feet took them anywhere else, long ago.

These children couldn't grow when they never fleed the nest,
and continued to feed off their parents.
They never gained the will to become something grander.
They will never find what it is they think they're looking for.
Because you don't find yourself among your own,
and you can't find what you're looking for until you know who you are.

He took a deep, penetrating look at what he saw around him,
nothing but bells and whistles,
and broken light bulbs.
He saw nothing but mediocrity and a lack of vexation
coupled with broken expectations.

The damp foulness that hung in the air on days with the right breeze
was normally a simple nuisance to the back of his palette,
but after a conjugal visit to paradise,
became a distaste of his soul.
He began to harbour hatred for the place he once adored
and had longed for, while fighting a fallen war.
These feelings had left him.
Because a place may seem the same upon arrival,
but those who stay will never be the same as you left them.
He made the hard decision to betray those he loved,
to make his way back to the war torn land of the south
where once he failed, but would soon succeed.
He would rejoin his brothers in the desert
those that were left behind in the confusion of battle.
It was time for him to make his second coming
and penetrate the great walls that held away intruders
pressing on, deeper into the territory than he ever dared before.
He would venture past the great mountain and through the snow
where he suffered defeat. Continue on down through the canyon
and past the giant red rocks, formations for the Gods
and finally down the hills through the forest of spines and sand
to find his mates, drink mead, and be merry with them again.

The desert oasis coaxed his mind until he could make preperation for his journey.
He sent a message ahead of him, and hoped it would reach his comrades
before he made haste on his horse.
The land sped swiftly under his hooves, and the wind in his face
reminded him of the land he abandoned.

But soon, he would lay in the heat of the day
and relax in tranquility
where the wind never blows
and sun always shines.
The long journey would be worth his spoils
and his heart grew bigger with anticipation.