It’s 5 am, and the town’s still dark. Flags lining the main street hang low like there’s no tomorrow. Winding roadways glare with oncoming headlights, and my love is calling me home. The dawn’s very early light ignites the sky reminding me there’s still a war yet to win.
My mind shifts gears, and I wonder what happened to the infants of the infantry. Dead men are hailing, and POWs are released all in the name of our Father. It’s time for them to return home to resurrect their family’s lives.
Flags somberly post at half-mast for the young men who gave up the ghost before their time. Battle cries scream behind the walls of plastered domes with velvet upholstery. God, I ask you to anoint the fallen and may they follow Christ in his crusade.
We are all made in His light, and each person deserves the right to be equally heard. Who are they, in tarnished ties, that speak in tongues we can’t surmise? I only pray the day will come when the government and its people will harmonize and sing the same song.
Lines are drawn, and states divide; parents fight and children cry. There doesn’t seem to be a recourse of action. The heavens beacon the entangled righteous and remaining neutral, now, is unimaginable. We gather holding hands. Our only ruler is the almighty Father. We must put inhibitions aside and realize our children, the infants of the infantry, are at our demise.
Let us reconstruct our way of life, somberly saluting those flags hanging low in the night. They remain to guard the innocent eyes so they may quietly sleep till morning arrives.
God bless you, and God bless our great nation!
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