Robert Verdon, #426, two years to war, a prologue

this subterfuge will end as summer drags

and autumn curls its leaves around your legs

a distant branch will creak upon a hill

a wind shall part the forest like a shriek

the years of progress shrivel to a spark

the rapier of hatred seeks its path

as bloodless calculation stops the breath

and all shall turn upon a single will

so sundry millions everyday will thank

the one who carried through this monstrous task …