The Winds Of War

The winds of war
In this, a paradise postponed
Given a year of summers
Breaking a winters tragedy
A bedridden land
That walks through exits only
Heartwork
A nation not fit for consumption
Not even to Poseidon’s wrath
1000 year prelude
A liar, his darker funerary despair
They wither.
We float.
We transform.
From black coffins to inexorable truth they pass.

Ian V. Seymour May 8 2014

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