Nightmare Of The Eastern Wind Poem by Alan S Jeeves

Prologue

In the end, the bitter end, he who orders
the death and destruction of another nation
shall, himself, sleep the sleep of the vanquished.

I
Dead mouths of many dreams that sing and sigh
And call out feebly in the midst of night
Calling, fearsome as their bleak wanton cry
And frighting, as the unthinkable fright
Until the dark of their plight passes by.

II
For, cold are the eyes that slumber in fear
And cold is the heart of the soul that sleeps
And sour is the taste of the sleeper's tear
And dire are the many secrets he keeps
For, wild is the scream that seeps in his ear.

III
The ruler of tracts o'er the eastern lands
Where red is the sky and black are the days
And burned are the souls the ruler commands
As flaming night comes and flaming night stays
So, then a nation betrays at his hands.

IV
Nothing is priceless or free of its cost
And value is learned when payment is due
For, battles are won though, wars can be lost,
(Battles are many yet, victories few)
And dead mouths sound as a new dream is tossed.

Epilogue

Sleep heavy and sleep long as you are,
at last, held to account for your sins.
Payment shall be heavy and long
and shall last for eternity.