After the bugle call
War begins and great men fall
After the trumpet sound
Amidst bloodshed, bleeding dreams abound
When the bugle sounds
Then regal vultures are called to feasting grounds
After the trumpet call
Once breathing men shall become as soulless doll!
Then Spirits drift either upward
Or find home in blazing fires downward
To a place where the living know not
A place where tears make the bone rot
Or where fears are brought to awaited rest
So man kills and maims
to satiate insatiable blood thirst
“Shall I see my enemy in eternity?
that we may resume our eternal war with angels
as unseemly umpires?
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.