with none of the artilleries' din.
It was quiet as a sleeping baby
and mercy was not wished for
at the sharp end of the sword.
But the warriors were a multitude,
each stranded with his own battle before him.
No warrior is a match to the affronted power
and all are in search of the slaying weapon.
Some have chosen
love,
faith,
will,
but what is secretly given to them all
is a brave face.
No comments:
Post a Comment