Across the Acres and the Aprils and the Fields,
the waning afterglow of what remained
Does make its way along the vast horizon.
The Titans or the Captains who did
forge our paths in steel and blood
Have now diminished or retreated
Yet defeated not in spirit, nor the Mind
of once what said we might have been.
And in that silent ringing from the Hill
you hear a voice; a human plea
that keeps you climbing: onward, upward
On the errant quest against
the lies and mountaintops and gold,
To speak for Her, and not be silenced!
November 9, 2012
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