The ArchitectWords taste like sand
unwholesome and coarse
striking as lightning
on the ear of mercy
casting long forever shadows
on the killing fields
of no quarter
pitching righteous wrath
against the battlements
of betrayal snared in my fist
waving ingloriously
the banner of truth
a familiar beacon
that rallies my perseverance
in this ages old war
for nothing as lofty as peace
but for the satisfaction
of simple justice long denied
and dreamt of sorely
in my resolute heart...
The architect of loves facade
died here.