In the Spring of
Life.
It was mid April, the fresh air
Like rejuvenating
Mantra
touch
His Soul and permeating
Body,
Quite far he
sees a den.
Nationalistic vigour
tremor like
Upon His heels
aims and
arrows,
He becomes Achilles
like,
The young
soldier with the
Ombudsman like walks
upon
The heath of breathless,
flooding
Bleeding and
vultures marauding,
“With
the blood and flesh of Death in the spring air”
He takes
a vow, if this
is going to
Get us Honour, pride wealth
And peace, Geographic expansion,
Fie upon arms and
armaments
Artillery and
weapons. Next
Clean burial
awaits .
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