Daggers all to daggers nigh! A war we face as if no end entail! The play of man, a chalice for her the bleeding Earth, no blood ourselves not summoned. As greed our minds enfold and Heroes turn to ash. Could there be one moment shinning in the gloom, to teach us of some greater way, and show man his mother is crying.  Alas it not that man would see nor say a truth upon this world. So ne'er speak as though we writ a fate of free people. For all the work we pen, is but the tragedy of man's destruction. Our hands move to make our doom. The light fades in our eyes where tears are fresh as rain, while hers taste of the sea. She the good Earth what have given life and love, was met with only blasphemy.