Art by Mark D Viraj
Our lives are wind and rapid water,but our story is undying.
Even as flesh becomes flower fodder
And our last kin finish crying,
The deeds of our life, the way we fought,
are an aperture on the film of time.
The Warrior’s valor comes not from glory sought,
but service to all mundane and sublime.
To be a shield against the cold gray night,
the sword for a helpless child.
When horizon shows no monsters to devour,
may the Warrior be not beguiled;
FOR THE GAOLER’S ARE COMING TO CAGE THE FREE,
and the Warriors wield the people’s key.
Written 01/21/2012
