What is it that devours our souls?
Why does it torment our lives so?
How do we defend from such horror?
This is something I want to know.
We are all dragged across the red hot coals of life,
We are tested by the horns of hell, and the wings of angels.
Pushed to the outer limits of our meek and lonely existence,
We fight to stay in control, to hear the ringing of Gods bells.
The week fall to the fury of the fire,
The fallen although not forgotten, are left to ruin,
The survivors must continue to fight for the thrown
We shall prevail, though none of us really know what we are doing.
I shall stand up tall, take charge, and Command the weary
This is what I do, and I do it without faltering, without fear
We must crush the demon that confronts us in heart
And we all shall have a truly magnificent victory to share.
REB (MAY 2012) because it was no picnic, it was Hell! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem