Armistice - Monica Richards

From the cold horizon

Their armies cry for blood

Surrender Surrender

The desert wind the ocean bed

The wind beckons come the flood

Surrender Surrender

Your drama is as usual

Wrapped in pointless battle

Surrender Surrender

Deed is the truth of Character

But the Word may bring on War

Surrender Surrender

The Healing

Pulling back — pulling in

The pain begins to relent

Pulling back — pulling in

To heal.

We may Heal

Pulling back — pulling in

Oh the desire to heal

We must have desire…

Fixed and refixed tiny tears

Sacrificed the kindly wrist

Surrender Surrender

Add to your cares new tragedy

Wits sharpened to weaponry

Surrender Surrender

Like a disgusted outsider

Welcomed to exclusivity

Surrender Surrender

Deed is the truth of Character

But the Truth may bring the War

Surrender Surrender

Towards the cold horizon

A higher perception

Surrender Surrender

From the boulders of my perch

The thrill of terror confides

Surrender Surrender

Drifting into the abyss

At peace in Motherly silence

Surrender Surrender

To fight is useless

I could but step towards this

Surrender Surrender