Fissures Of Men
These fissures of Men,
Deep, dark,
Devoid of light and grace.
The only spark of passion revealed,
The flash of death from belching muzzles.
Angered hate in eye for eye,
Competing to see,
Who the first is to die.
Yes, Chasms black,
Deep and cold
“Tis no place
For the heart to abide.
Siege laid unto ourselves
When fissures as these
Are left to spread,
When all that are left
Are the dying and the dead.
And in glories engrained
We sing the refrains of
Cause and bannered flags.
And bury them in Heroes graves
And widen the chasms again.