Hope's Last Stand

We find ourselves in a time,

Where the vultures fly above and ask for peace,

And the damned still answer,

Where the traitors stretched hands,

Still condemn him the knife,

It is with great glory to hold any small belief for long,

To know who one is ,

And with what convictions,

Though minor;

The wind sweeps the thin bones away,

And leaves heavy swords,

And while the crowds still whip each other through the mirror,

And the bloody and lame still bow their heads,

There is a great fondness here,

Or at least a great hope,

For here at hope’s last stand,

The markers will be placed,

And the unclaimed men will cheer.