300 SPARTANS

The sky was barraged with arrows upon Xerxes' command,
The earth groaned under the footsteps of millions,
"We march!" declared Persia, "We shall topple Greece,
Together, as one, the world will be ours!"
But they forgot one thing,
The stony-hearted warriors of Sparta,
And a king, named Leonidas,
With only 300, but their hearts priceless.
"Gather!" said Leonidas, "To Thermopylae we go,
We'll wait in the narrow pass, to face the foe.
Few we are, but our essence is strong,
Even death is met with pride on this path we throng."
And they marched, chests out, pride in their stride,
Leaving Sparta's red earth behind,
With one last look at families, at loves,
"Maybe we'll return, maybe not, but fight we shall."
In the first clash, iron proved stronger than steel,
Spartans, like lions, hurled their spears with zeal,
Persia, numerous but to the fire in their hearts, fell short.
For three days, without pause, without falter, they fought,
Each Spartan, a hero, a legend there became.
But alas! Betrayal found its moment,
A Greek's shown secret path,
Planted a deep ache in Leonidas' heart.
"Here, here is our final stand," he declared,
"Fight to death, but no step back."
And the last battle, in blood and sweat,
Leonidas, leading, fell with a swing of his sword,
But even in falling, with pride,
"To death we march, but our story will survive," he whispered to the wind.
Greece united thereafter,
Thanks to the sacrifice of Leonidas and his 300,
And history never forgot these heroes,
How could it?
Even their deaths were a defiance to oblivion.