I’m unevenly placed, skewed,
Strewn as if across a battlefield of green arching upwards
Into a firmament no kinder than the dirt below.
Glory; glory, triumph, and victory
Gallop through the head of the sweat-glossed, sandal-clad
With the fervor of an enjoined nation
Working
As
One.
What can be defined as the perfect cause?
What can be defined as just too much loss?
Nothing, no one, withstands the majesty
Of a waving, battle-torn flag, resting upon
The crest of a hill with grace gracing
Every
Single
Rip.
I can glaze over the different shades of red
That permeate the legacy we will all
Come to know as legend, as the workings of but
A tale, in some lands. Yet I know the secret, the wish
Hidden behind the untouched folds, the proud wishes
Between each enjoined thread, the ideals of a
Solitary people who with me, wish for a better
World
For
All.
One can only hope
We will be remembered.