Wake of the Aftermath

I'm at the wake of the aftermath.
Steel arrows and sawed swords carved through magnificent shields.
I feel the burning wood beneath me, the charred arcs and stables.
I'm parched as I rest my head on the stone ruins, too tired to take another step to look over the horizon to seek remorse.
Mirages, hazy pictures surrounded my view.

But I see you.

Still as valiant as ever.
Amour never scourned, unparalleled, steadfast.
Your stronghold is as guarded as the shade of a sequoia.
I fought to be under that shade, under that breadth but was bolted off.
Stunned.
Still I walked over to see you clearly, with your eyes wide shut as you half faced me.
I lurked over the pebbled greek fences, they were fragile.
Fragile enough to fall me off.

I did fell, over and over again.

And stumbled upon this oasis that replenished my thirst.
I rested, rested well but not my heart.
I hear you heartbeat, not simultaneous with mine and all I could think of is you and me, gapped.
I guess all I can do is wait for you to catapult a massive metal wrecking ball through that stronghold and let me through, or better yet, come out.