He stood there, aghast, as all looked content.
He objected and raised every issue,
As their ignorant evil lives seemed bliss.
He had nightmares and wished this were not his world.
All as the usurpers had a smile.
He objected as the devil took control,
He wept as the incompetent men and women ruled.
He looked to the skies and howled like a wolf.
He did not forget his duty unto death,
His sacred duty, his sacrament unto the highest command.
The good centurion fought and conquered death.
And yet, the night breeze, I sensed, it became a hurricane in the morning, my dream, in it as though truth itself, is to know that night breeze, as though in romance- to romance the mystery of the hidden truth. For I love the night breeze, which so few yet can sense.
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Ode to the good centurion...
Posted by Marc Evan Aupiais at 5:04 PM
Dad; Husband; Christian (Catholic); Irish. — News; Business; History; Civilizations; The Western World; Speech; Culture; Law. (Pronounced: Aw-Pea-Air.)
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