John McChord

Unending March

 

Decisive halt and hardened face

Ending breath in peaceful grace

Among cold grip lay myths and kings

Their faded form meets end in rings

Hailing verse with unknown pace

 

Chosen beat in rhythmic lace

On glistening moon and burning sun

Muck of breathing human slum

Echoed caverns hold thy master

Send us drowned, unholy bastard