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(will your stare be fixed and true?)


No time to vow what must be done, or not,

Fore t 'is a time when all men are cowards.

No oath will suffice, or battle to be fought,

Knows the thunder of this tempest.


These days, when trees whisper between themselves

Of the days when we were less experienced,

And expectation a less formidable foe,

Less a question of valiance, more of innocence.


Now at these crossroads, paths all around,

And your heart is measured by the next step.

Will you drop to your knees asking mercy

Or will your stare become fixed and true?


It has begun, the insurrection of my soul,

The war between the demons and the gods

For control of love, or insanity,

When emotion strikes out at reason.


These days decide what we've become, or not,

When a certain finality appears in character

That will not easily yield to argument.

A time of honor, or, perhaps, retreat.


When conviction may defeat compromise.

No prison walls hold the power of this force

When your heart pounds, muscle tense in rhythm.

No captainís wheel or rudder steers the course.


Set sail in the darkness of unending light

To a glory that knows no fame,

Finally found a paradise so lost.

The entire sky filled with participants.


So we, unquestioningly, or not,

Continue to press against all hopelessness.

The drummer of an unfaithful army

At war against the most invincible foe.


Just the vow for resolution of death,

A shake of the head, a slip of the noose,

Indecision at the gallows plank

A life cast to insignificance.


Now face to face, and hand to hand, or not,

The riot of the demons has begun.

The swords are drawn, the die is cast.

The gods may be angry, or not.


This one for the annals.


                                                                                   ~~~ by Michael Chaussee



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