Primal code or primal fear for a constant circle raise,
The world's bargain is signed with a loose handshake.
With awards and metals we light up our praise
Hunting for virtues later to sell and to forsake.
Yet, there were times when they kept their head up high,
Bearing a cross marked with dignity and rightness.
On battlefields dead bodies empty and souls free to fly
To places they gallantly deserve, while reflecting brightness.
Heroes were men who smiled against the greatest gale,
Intending to sacrifice their blood for freedom they sought.
What shape could their trophies have and what weight their tale?
The edges of a purpose sacred carried the reason they fought.
Swinging between past promises and haste for the power,
We now fight with plastic swords, returning senseless calls.
The name of ancestor Glory spoiled in bars at happy hour,
On leary poems dropped from shaky hands, our honor climbs and falls.