Revolution - Poem by Mike Hester
The angels wailed in sympathy
For the possibility.
(Some things went, some things came,
Many stayed the same.)
Crimson was their streams of blood
Etching into barren earth -
Whilst the pulse of cannon fire
Became the song they sang.
Heroes dwell in history
(The obvious spoils of victory)
As the spirits of the vanquished
Await their time again.
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