Studies in Sobriety Poetics Donate.
         
  This poem is a reply to Maya Angelous "Still I rise", as in the metric form  are armies called forth to march against the waves and tides which would flood our lands and into eternal darkness falls as it is not incense which rise, but nights of terror, for a moon god whom would slay the sun goddess.   

Warriors of the Sun

 

 

 

 

    [Missing History]

And now there is but little time and less hope for Europe,
  for the blackened waves keeps flooding Her shores,
as they talk and talk and do or say nothing of importance.
  while the gates stand open and the doors unlocked.

They came, unarmed, to conquer Europe by the womb.
  while the traitors in our midst talked of diversity
and plots and schemes and virtue signals for politics,
  and spread their legs for the invaders willingly.

But perhaps this is the end, the fate which rests upon us
  But let it be so then. This world was never truly ours,
and we are not of it, we are but guests in this, His Holy land,
  yet, this battle still remains before that hour may come.

   Rise up, Warriors of the Sun!

 Let not the Gods determine our fate, but ourselves!
Let the waves crash against Her shores one more time,
and the rotting corpses of the foreigners on the beaches
  amongst the debris and dunes of sand be our Legacy!

       [End of History]

       
 
         
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