The Red Earth

I once won a battle that someone else lost;

always in life we must count up the cost.

With battle lines drawn and swords at the ready,

and the mastery of holding the wild horses steady,

we thunder across plains in some world far away

and fight to the death over who wins the day.

And over the field lay the dead and the dying

while deep in its heart the red earth is crying.

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About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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