The sun sat shadowed in a cloud of dust
as we waited to march toward the sea.
Ahead the trumpets blared the triumph march.
The drumbeat of boots matched our thumping hearts.
Mounted leaders adorned with pallid glory portend:
War is our end and our fate is folly.
Sages say some men are born meant to lead,
and other men thus are born to follow.
This is called wisdom, and it flows from a pen
as freely as the blood of the slaughtered.