Glory

The flag sways unprotected in the rain, ropes broke, without escape. A metal ladder is near and a boy hiding beneath a tree.

A cart rools away down the frozen food, past the crowded sales rack of un-lean meat, a stack of cans in its path. The busy store soon hears an announcement "Clean up, isle 5".

I prefer to fight that which I see
Whether my dreams
Nightmares or lies
Depict the images
I stand forth
Sword in right hand
Shield in armed left
Raging black tides
Crowd me on my pedistal
the nightly rain reminds me
of the solemn blood
that must flow from rivers