There’s a tricky tale that God is writing,

A story to slice the poets whole

The many hundred lives he wounds 

To entertain his immortal soul.

When the bells of time ring their fateful end,

How many outrun the clock?

I’ll see you on the other side, my friend

Bring your selfhood tight on lock.

There’s a war that’s seeping through the mist,

Bloodshed stinks around the bend, 

So kill the other men before they have their chance to kill again. 

How will they write your name in history? As a killer or a fighter?

If it won’t say “martyr” in cold, red blood– you’d better hope to god you’d died trying.

Remember friends, that after every sunset comes a sunrise,

A bow that awaits beyond the storm,

A sun behind the clouded sky,

After every winter, comes the warmth.

Do not despair, and wither away

Just before the change has come–

Instead join with brother, arm in arm,

Not with blazes of hate– but of love.