Tuesday, November 22, 2011

North Cold

Winds roar into being
Waves, waves, waves
The North Cold at its song

Under the blue sun,
Bodies lay on bloodied sands
We killed them, our commands
They followed, fought, died
The face of Death frozen
Upon their eyes
Here is where the dead wait
In the cold of silence
On these grounds, in this grass,
Their dying screams live
Encapsulated, captured
A struggle in the distance, life and soul seeping out
Man, floor, hanging on to life
Grabs the grass in petrified fists
Then he sees Him, feels Him
He is here

Die now, give in
To the brutal sin
Die now, give us
One more name to wail

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