See thou yet the lie unfolding,
metamorphosizing, molding
echoes of the once great Word
into that bastard, War?
Thou are naught but untrained soldier
bound by gods and told of borders;
meat to feed the Beast in order
to enforce the door.
Wilt thou die for lesser than
thine own conceits, at mine demand?
Nor shall I for thee, my friend.
Nor shall I for thee.
I will rage instead, and roar
and die a Beast myself, before
the State or God or ghost of war
shall take mine eyes from me.