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Trumpet call

January 17, 2014

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We all
want to taste
that victory
That blood
pounding
Elation

Joy

Chest bursting emotion
moving us wordless to know

We:

Fought
Like gladiators,

Struggled
Like slaves,

Sweat
Like athletes,

Bled
Like a woman in labor,

Rained tears
Like love sickened poets,

Stricken with ardor of this thing,
This thing that will
Surely
Certainly unwind the helix of
Our very center
Making us to love it
All the more

Not detouring us from
The thrill of the win
Nor sate the haggard
thirst for triumph
Not over the other,

But because of
The challenge
That called
Honing us to our unknown finest

Even in defeat
We are humiliated no more
Wounded on the battleground
We reach farther
Shedding our blood
That we may find our own self
And the respect of ourself

Than having spared our blood
In mild persuits
Safe on the couch
With 600 channel remote
Watching others live lives we scorn
…or lust after…
While we live no life at all
But hollow and desperate
Anhydrous
Desiccate
Void
Barren
clay jars.

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