To march before a man of death is to partake in your own suicide.
Sitting high in his own self glory on a dark horse he shall ride.
Or the marching of your feet, or the blaspheme of your words.
You dare to be enraged by the tears of one or others,
As the blood runs down the street death stalks your worldly brothers.
But by the wound of your own saber you shall be made to fall,
Taking with you the mountains that once stood in honor of us all.
This article was not written by me, although I was given permission to edit it into poetic form. The Author of this piece resides in another realm and I often benefit from his words of wisdom, which I share with others.