Scarlet clothes the dauntless titans in rippling pools of glory.
So many idle dream of such a prize as man has made of his
spectacles since first bone on bone struck, still the unsung
war on, as Jacob with his angel, waiting for blessing. Gaining
a new name for the struggle, the wave of voices crashing over
the only two in this world of the ever turning tempest
each hoping to last the storm, only to steer his ship back
in for for the sake of another story, another tale that might
make his name live a day longer. Every man in his own
battle falls, triumphs, weeps in joy and shame, but this
trial is of the unseen beyond this frail flesh doomed to dust
Here one sees the war of truth.