Fog of War

Poking at a few things, mostly dark days do not last. The fog of war will lift whatever that war may be.

Clumbsy work full of holes
Yet praised unto the sky.
Dedication scorned and mocked
And Driven ‘til it dies.

Proud the voice on stolen throne
That claims it cannot fall.
Loud the choice that takes no chance
And derides any risk at all.

Small the hands that do the work
And soft the voice of truth.
One by one the many come
and slowly see the proof.

No word is said against the dead
Where the high enthroned can hear,
But quiet words and steady deeds
The fog of war will clear.

The bragging throne fights to keep
It’s shadowed misty shroud
but ten thousand quiet voices sound
And all the lies are drowned.

The fog of war fades away
in word and then in deed.
Guided by relentless truth
Spilling in the street.

Dreaming in Plot