by Stephenie Tucker
The men were dead, their lives, long gone.
And yet, their cause still lingered on.
The banners wavered in the breeze,
through borderlands of ship less seas.
And now Apollo shall rise once more,
to ferry souls to whitened shores.
Now red shall rise the yellow sun,
and end at last what we have done.
And give feral man back his taste,
of freedoms tend to life they waste.
Last updated February 21, 2012