It is human to fight on
to take the cause as it were ones throat
and yell all days with the forces of the mighty
and the proud victors of legend
the storming of the castle
the taking down of the barriers between them and us
the road on which is paved the softness of touch
the face that turns beneath the shroud or brazen
under the searing heat of desert sun
or reflecting electric blue
the machine that shapes thinking in the dream lands
that thought they could line their fortress with
promisory notes.
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