Bright White Limestone

I am no short man as
they say, for I have been
to Italy and France, and
with the grace of sea, to Egypt.

With me all great minds of
science and math and earth.
For France, her glory, her
honor and people I serve. 

The key to language we find
nestled in fortifications,
and watchful lion with
man's head; I ride to it.

Pharaohs watch our battles
pointing to the Heaven still,
their desert take us, its people,
its strangeness. 

Sickness bed us, boils
fester over our skin
we cry out in pain.
But for France, for France!

Swords clash together,
like miniature bells
heralding death, but
victory. For France!

Before me they will bend,
my hand tucked away.
Little I am, they say.
Yet all shall see the might of me.