Sword of TRuth
“TO DO WHAT MUST BE DONE”
To do what must be done;
The race, which must be won;
The deed that must be done;
Sing the Song, which must be sung.
The ways of Nature ever inspires;
The sons of man to aspire even higher;
Rhythms of Nature will strum on the lyre;
And, an echo of life’s past, sings as a choir.
Brings the best into an existence;
squeeze the rest beyond their endurance;
Streams of living matter flies with wings unfurled:-
So constantly is the maintenance assured.
Trial and error comes into its own;;
As each seed of challenge is sewn
And in the Fields of Glory they are grown;
Each in turn to the Creator are shown.
Once more, the battle’s song, it is sung;
Song of Victory, as the war it is won;
As each parent travels out to their sons;
And plucks them safe, from the sight of the guns.
Each vibratory pattern now obeys;
The sound of the Creator’s airwaves-
As they bring the Golden Dawn on each horizon;
And all who had been captured, now reach Zion.
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