Spartacus Poem by Andrus Cassian

Why does my skin feel so cold
A stray thought
resting on my lonely mind
The feeling of warmth
fleeting, vanished along with the rolling clouds
Is this supposed to be a paradise
or a living nightmare
Once the shadows part ways
here arrives the swift sense of victory
only to see failure charge with a white horse
and gleaming armor
Backed into a corner
begging for an option of sealing the swords away
for the grief of the loss
from beloved wife still burns strong
Do the Gods exist
she believed it so but I remain the fool
for I don't believe in anything that would steal her away
yet the reasoning proceeds to seep
as her predictions reign true to me
Possibilities are seen impossible for
now the feeling in these
breakable hands grows as cold as ice
Blood pours out of the bodies
these swords have severed
An arena...this where last stands are made
Obstructed is the view of the beholder
as in those eyes, the last one seemed so familiar
yet the only sound was the crowd screaming the name
Spartacus!
Spartacus!
Spartacus!