Honour

Preach to the choir
that raves and aspires.
Raise high and pump fist;
shirk what is the jist:
this is human,
this pain
and so worthy
shit rains,
pump arms and
elate
at the future
you crave
to be loud
and so proud
thrice these lions
will snap
at a chance of a cloud
we’re born and endowed
take a breath
and exist
in this beauty:
poultice;
remonstrate
to the sky, blank of mind
feel the swell left behind
there a soldiers that weep
green pastures we’re to keep

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