The butcher’s blood is of a red sea’s winter, his heart replaced by a pepper. Oh, why should some sing the hymn of hate, while others are crossed in love?
The sword in hand art only of stale minds, its name forever bluntened by God’s tears. Oh, rootless, you may seem, but the stakes you gamble are the lives of the pure.
~ Simon Jepps
A long time ago, wars were cast only whence good people proclaim witness to evil deeds. Thence we would fight together and with righteous power.
Today, wars are cast whence dictators proclaim witness to futures yet unmade. Thence strike a land in secret and with unrighteous power.
Ahura Mazda, peace be with thee.