The deep boom of great man's throat
Chest like a drum grows tight
Like lips from fright purse in frail line
Battle cry born in mountain's womb, now heard
In hammering of curve'd swords and pikes
Grow long shadows; sharp the battle cry
Emerald oceans and swimming wheat dance
Beneath the metal-clad percussion feet
Black dress flows like water as she spins
Her centrifugal motion drawing eyes of
Daffodil and dawn, rays alight in her
Drops and onyx crystals of war scatter
Wild trees spring up gnarled and dark
And they dance like men to beating drum
Purple, misty chaos stretches, repsoseful
Across fetal forest, and the light will die
(3/30)
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