The hawk soars boldly into the eastern sun,
fear unfamiliar,
eyes honed for prey,
exploited by none.
As did we, my brothers.
The mighty oak stands proudly in the meadow,
unbent by travesty,
shelter for weak and shade for the weary,
visible from every hedgerow.
Thus stood we, my brothers.
The wind flies freely through the valley,
setting pennants to flap,
sparks unto fire,
unfettered by pettiness nor hindered by despot\'s desire.
We rode thusly, my brothers.
The seawall robust,
reaching high,
resisting the irresistible,
ever stalwart \'gainst the constant assault,
glittering in the western red of the dying sky.
Thus was our post, my brothers.
The phoenix catapults into the sun, one wistful glance back,
before \'tis gone.
For final glimpse of deeds well done, of tales now told by father to son.
The age doth wane, is now become yore,
to be remembered only,
seen no more.
This fate to we also, my brothers.
(Written by me, 2005)
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