A shout.  A cry of triumph and all is silent.
The blast rings back through time and foreword to the end.
The chaos of battle, the order of music.

Beside me are others.  The breath erupts through us and we shout or sing through pipes of brass.

Triumph.

An end, a beginning, and all comes together
Now glad in song, now fierce in battle.

Triumph, alarm, and a final blast
From when I have said enough at last.

My soul cries out for truest peace
But flesh trades rest in mindless ease.

My soul, it yearns for truest love
But flesh says pleasure is enough.

My soul will strain for freedom dear
But flesh holds comfort out of fear.

My soul will long to show pure love
But my flesh decides it's done enough.

My soul wants selfish thoughts to break
But my flesh will live to only take.

"Enough," my soul arose and said,
"I will not rest 'til Flesh is dead.

"It can't be done in just a day,
But I will fight and find a way.

"I'll struggle hard as it holds on
And grapple with in 'till the dawn."

I'm choosing not the path of ease.
Now I will fight for truth and peace.