Manifesting Destiny

When cleverness and cute have shut, claimant of the storm to come, still balls of steel clang against the standing of so few...remaining straight; neither flag be found. This land, that once, was populace'd, by buffalo; the savages that brought them low...lay down their, stolen destiny. The ashes of their silent cities, reaped...their harvest come. In interim, all blood was dust, and red as rust...now blown away and gone; where ghosts alone, in spirit...carry forth, while earth return...to peace.


In epilogue: All argument, all detriment...the guilty, with the innocent, were taken...for the few, who would not get along; would have nothing here...of God's creation. Where, all the one's who led and lied, forsook their faith, their oath, and sole remaining...sold.

And yet...seed waiting in the sand, hath faith in heaven's tide, and life will come, and death will not be given it's grim laugh. Children of all kind, will love...will play their time upon the grass...all will be raised...all will be raised...at last.


Written By Bruce James Clyde 2016,  Deming, New Mexico

Photo Credit: Steven Schimmrich, herd of Buffalo grazing peacefully