And Rumours Of Wars

As the black crow calls
And with such foreboding swoops
And lets fall its omen feather
At our feet, no sign from heaven
Could render as sweet this
Blackened quill which
Whittles defeat

For as the aim is followed through
It is the chance to defy the threat
Which summons the true
And truly I 've no oath for you
But this; when soft petal'd spring
Wilts from summer's kiss,
That our ancient pact remain
Under that scalding rain.

The test is certainty with
Conviction. To throw fully thwarted
Against hope into the stark naked sky
This our dream,
Carpe
Carpe Deum.