Awake! Ye ancient brittle bones,
Unfold yourselves to me.
For I am sick at heart
And an unprevailing cause mocks my sleep.
Our time is upon us.
We must gather together now as one
While the squeak and gibber
Of these impious spirits haunt our very purpose.

Awake! Ye sleeping minions,
Ye true warriors of love,
With hearts and souls at well deserved rest.
Though our duty hath been done 'tis true,
And deserv'd the slumber of all eternity,
The devil's fray is ashore
And 'tis time we take on flesh and finish the closing battle.

As it is unwritten on our souls in heaven
We, the last moral servants,
True at heart and conscience,
Are to become one in the flesh for the last clash.
Aye, but here's the rub,
There'll be no battlefield for to drive our staves into.
No streams to run red with the blood of gentle kin and death mongers.
No blackened sky from pyers ablaze.
This, the last battle shall be fought
Not with blades of contempt and disdain,
But with the sacred sword of Love,
A sword that God Himself shall forge.
He shall gather all our souls
And cast them into His sacred furnace, to make His sacred whirling mace from heaven.
For no man hath made a weapon that can ever thwart the madness of war.

The power of Love has come to fruition
And we mortal warriors shall wield Its might.
For hate is the true enemy here,
Not zealous underlings
Eager to serve their dispirited hearts.
Hate is what burns in their eyes,
Hate is also what blinds them.
And now, like a handful of bees,
They torment the earth with their misguided mission.
Hate is the tinder
And lies are the winds that fan their unholy flames.
With the patience of a weaver
They loom their imperfect prayer rug,
That the god in their mind may think them humble.
Yea, even now as the pestilence kneels and prays
And bows its head in gesture,
It is in gesture only.
His ancient prayers, though once righteous and profound,
Now come from lips tight with blind hatred
And God strains to hear his worshipping.
For the God his forefathers bowed to was a loving merciful God
Who's auspicious whispers kissed the words of love, hope and forgiveness.
Nay, death was not upon His lips.
Though they wave the ****** banner of their unportentous god,
With misread writ their disjointed false prophets blindly lead them on.
Like scornfilled women whose wrath is tainted with the blood of a thousand censorious years
And can not wipe their memories clean.
Their ceaseless thoughts of revenge eat at them,
Like brain-sick harpies madly gnawing off their own limbs.
Bid you make haste,
For he is at the door.
He has been here, settled in and quiet.
He wears the hats of peasant folk and hides.
Fie, fie!
To skinny among the masses and plant seeds of terror
Like impish gnomes.

Rise up bones! You rusted mantle clad mercenaries of the dark
I do beseech you
Walk into the light, into the light of omega
The reckoning
On to fight on no battleground!
On to fight for no faith nor religion!
On to fight for no flag nor country!
On to fight for all mankind!
On into the battle to end all battles!
For the **** crew and the earth has begun its retrograde.
Already have our thews began to form,
Soon, once dusty, moldy hands will take up the truncheon's length of Hope
And do the deed for which we were born,
And for which we gave our breath.
Heaven hath made us one,
And our single beating heart of love is the sword with which the dragon shall be slain.
Fuse skeletons of passion's might,
Our virtuous calling awaits.
No more will the earth tremble in fear,
No more will there be this god and that god,
No more will man be blinded by his mind.
For his pure and loving heart will be his home,
And his long awaited soul will be his peace.

*Peace       Salam      Shalom