Sooner the repast of days long lost… doth a petty people regard their fate at last… in the dim light of a fawning dawn comes wisdom to late.
Why comes the Harold of peace and glory to the stage, no more; whose faithful voice will resound, with the clarion call of hope and a better day? Look no more to the halls of justice, too the lackeys call… they too have bowed… no more too the captains of our liberty, for they are now long buried… and hollow is their memory… among our citizens.
Nay, the reaper waits to thrust in his cycle… one last time, too draw out the remaining breed, who father no more men of steel to seed, another generation… Look not to the right nor the left, for thy help; there is no resort, for the despots hand has bought them all… in the land. This terrible price being paid… Go now my children, few, too a better place; where harbors are made ready, for your ship of state… long seeded and waiting for you. Too, those with an eye to see and an ear to hear, I say too America ado… ado.
Sing now the song of sorrows long… for the widows do, and look now to thy child, for it too needs you… Peace to the wise, rests in more than the lies of their leaders… it is anchored in the knowledge of God’s certain voice…. in the shrill delight of His eternal promise… there is found the Faithfull’s repast… their sweet delight and a better day.
Think long upon these somber words… for in them are the alchemy of tomorrows day.
Col., US Army (ret.)