The Battle

The glittering gold and shimmering crystal of palatial proportions Scarlet red carpets, as if the blood itself were loosed Quivering pulsation's wracking the soul to it's core Like the walls of Jericho before their fall Armored knights, swords aloft, defending the parapets Shaking with hidden fears, hoping for truce Knowing in reality there must be a great toll The whole Earth trembles at the destruction of such beauty For which, shame must fall upon man himself In seeking such glory, to conquer worlds, to have it all Never content with riches and splendor Nor one another in complete surrender Destroying what's good, enveloping that which will destroy the soul Self destruction on such a grand scale Never content until he burns in Hell