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Untitled November 17, 2009

Posted by fungus in Uncategorized.
Tags: ,

Put your guns down; you are fighting phantoms
The Revolution, it passed you by
The fall from the stars to the gutter
all happened in the blink of an eye

The bedrock that you stood proudly on
was nothing but a pile of dust
and the iron fist you once ruled with
has rotted and given to rust

Your silk totem, once resplendent
now tattered, flies half-mast
for the ideology that held it aloft
has floundered, failed and breathed its last

And, behold! The Golden Army
now just old men with broken backs
The flanks have fled, the rear crumbled
under Time’s relentless attacks

And your enemy’s outline is murky and gray
you no longer know who you are fighting or why
And there is much soul-searching to do
but you no longer have the energy to try

For if you did you would be forced to ask
What purpose with which to greet the coming morn?
But you shrug your shoulders and realize
Your only choice? To soldier blindly on.