Without Remorse

Pen in hand- No pen but sword

The soldier marched without remorse

This is the battlefield in which I fight

My armour tis the truth and light

The weapon faith the power grace

The foe selfishness-covetousness (his own traits)

How long I march how long it be

How long I stand to face this tree

Forever that a minute take

I stand alone and wait

Without remorse

 

Lord may it be that for such a time as this that I was born nothing else makes any sense

 

Hubert Rondeau

 

 

 

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